Not Quite Super Soldiers
by The Silky Carp
Summary: A new breed of soldier is developed to replace the fallen Spartans... and end the war.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Quite Super Soldiers**

Chapter 1

Not Spartan IIIs... something else

"Colonel, I though ONI had more or less agreed that we should leave the SPARTAN project in Dr. Halsey's capable hands - at least until she went AWOL,"

"No sir, you misunderstand me," Colonel Philips said smoothly, "these are not Spartan IIIs, they're... something else."

"Your brief," Admiral Carter said deliberately, "stated very clearly that you were requesting permission to instigate a program to enhance UNSC troops. Now I don't know what those ghouls at ONI will think of that, but to me it smacks of Spartanism."

"Please sir, allow me to explain. The Spartans were stolen from their families at the age of six, trained to be soldiers for their entire lives, and underwent significant genetic modifications..."

"I am well aware of the specifics of the SPARTAN program Colonel - don't forget I was instrumental in its authorisation. God help us if anyone ever approves something as radical as the SPARTAN program without full - yes _full_ Colonel - knowledge of what it pertains. So please, spare me the pedantics and get to the point."

"_Significant genetic modifications," _ Philips continued doggedly, "that made them barely human. The FIREWALL program proposes nothing so ethically contemptible. First of all, it is an all volunteer program - there will be no kidnappings, no ruined childhoods - which was, incidentally, one of the major sticking points of the SPARTAN program. The volunteers - and we expect there to be many - will be drawn from the Marine Corps., and at least half of them will be taken from the ODST division. As you are no doubt aware, the ODSTs hold anyone below their level of expertise in contempt, and the Spartans particularly so. It will be necessary for the Firewalls to undertake missions alongside the ODSTs, and we hope that by taking troops from the ODST corps to lessen that divide.

The program does include some physical alterations, which is what may have caused your initial confusion. However, we do not plan on such radical alterations as the SPARTAN program, which enhanced pretty much every aspect of the human body. The FIREWALL program will enhance only the strength, speed and reflexes of the subject."

"Which is more or less what the Spartans had done to them."

"Not quite sir, there were several other enhancements the Spartans received - optical enhancements, bone strengthening, growth increase and so forth. We don't want to make Goliaths..."

"Goliaths?"

"Goliath was a character in the Bible. Apparently he was a giant - very strong, very tall, basically an old-time super soldier."

"That would explain my ignorance then - my knowledge of the Bible is shaky at best."

"Not to worry sir, God loves you nonetheless," Philips smiled - he was famed throughout his division as one of the few dedicated Christians in the Corps, "anyway, as I was saying, we don't plan to make Goliaths, we only want to make stronger, faster humans. In addition, we have refined the processes used on the Spartans, so the death toll expected when we improve these people to drop from roughly half - as it was with the Spartans - to around seven percent."

"Interesting. Well son, you've got my attention. Now, sell it to me for real. There's one major question that needs answering. You've given me all the reasons and explanations about why this would work. Now tell me something else - what would this FIREWALL program hope to achieve? Our problem isn't so much the Covenant ground troops. If it was we would've won this war when the Spartans took to the field. No, our problem is that the Covenant fleets are far superior to our own."

"Yes sir. The overall plan of the FIREWALL program is to rectify that situation. As you know, after the destruction Reach, the UNSC started work on a major construction facility in low orbit around Jupiter to replace the shipyards lost in the Epsilon Eridani system. All those shipyards in the Jovian atmosphere will need once they're finished - which should be quite soon - is decent ships to build.

I discovered a short time ago that shortly before the fall of Reach and the death of most of the Spartans, they had a mission; to capture a Covenant ship and use it to infiltrate Covenant space, locate the homeworld of their 'Prophets', capture one and use it to force a peace treaty.

The Firewalls will have very similar ultimate mission parameters. If you will allow me I will give you the details."

"I will Colonel, go on."

"Well, the Firewalls, of whom I plan there will around five hundred, will be placed under the command of the remaining four Spartan IIs - and damn Dr. Halsey for taking Spartan-087, since with her we could've divided up the Firewalls very cleanly - and will continue the first parts of the original mission; they will penetrate, neutralise and capture a Covenant vessel and then return with it to Earth."

"How do you intend to capture a Covenant vessel _and _keep it intact enough to fly?"

"Ah, well that's the real genius of this plan!" Philips said gleefully, rubbing his hands with delight. "Since first contact, our scientists and engineers have been working on ways to counter the Covenant. The Spartans were one method. Recently we have developed two marvellous new devices:

Number one - the magnetic field disruptor. As you know the Covenant's main shipboard weapon is the plasma torpedo. They fire superheated plasma through space, and they hold it together with a shifting magnetic field -basically they shape it using magnets. We have just developed a device that can disrupt that field, effectively neutralising the weapon. However, for this device to work at full capacity, enough that it can render a ship impervious to plasma torpedoes, requires a very expensive, large, and power-consuming construction. In simple terms we can only really build one or two, and if we were to install them on ships, the ship would then be pretty much useless for anything else. A less effective, but far smaller and cheaper versions could be mass produced and installed, but that's not important right now.

Number two - the focused-energy reflective-plate. That's the geek-name for a really, really strong mirror. Scientists have just developed a reflective plating that can reflect upwards of a billion joules of focused and directed light energy, effectively rendering the Covenant's pulse lasers ineffective.

If we were to install these two devices on a ship, it would basically be invincible to anything other than projectile weapons, bombs or head-on collisions.

It would be this ship that we would use to board a Covenant vessel. We would bring it back to Earth, perform a brief analysis of technology in order to implement it on our own vessels."

"Why brief? Why not conduct a full inspection of all their technology and create a fleet of warships equal to their own?"

"By the time we could complete such an operation sir, the Covies would be knocking on Earth's door, and I doubt they'd be bringing flowers. No, while the Spartans and Firewalls are being briefed on the next stage of their mission our engineers and scientists will investigate the Covenant technology as fully as they can - what they find may buy us more time, and even give us some hope of a victory, however minor, against the Covenant. We only have a few solar systems left in our possession, and we want to do anything we can to hold on to them.

The Spartans and Firewalls will then take the Covenant vessel to the Prophets' homeworld, which we hope to learn from the vessels databases, and - and this is where the mission parameters deviate from those of the original - they will _not _ try to capture a prophet - I think the Covies have made it abundantly clear that a peace treaty isn't in the books. They will instead plant a NOVA nuclear device on the planets surface, hopefully annihilating the entirety of the prophet population - and the Covenant's leaders."

Admiral Carter was silent for a long time. Philips prayed that his proposal had been done well, and that the Admiral was thinking of possible flaws in the plan, of further uses of the FIREWALL program, not trying to think of a way to break the news gently.

"Well son, I think its a bloody good plan. In fact, it may be the best chance we've got." Philips' heart leapt into his throat in his excitement.

"_But_," the Admiral continued, and Philips' heart sank into the depths of his gut, expecting the Admiral to crush his hopes entirely, "have you considered the possibility that, having destroyed their entire leadership - and don't forget that the Covenant see the Prophets as near-gods - they might not be crushed, but incensed. Far from destroying their fighting capability, this move might spur them to still-greater violence in revenge."

"Yes sir, we have. It is our belief, based on our knowledge of the Covenant society, that their leaders have kept such a death-grip on the control of their underlings for so long that without them the Covenant would be unable to function. Also, as you mentioned yourself, the Prophets are all but gods to the Covenant, so their destruction might be seen as the will of the Forerunner - they might believe that they have angered their 'gods' and brought their displeasure down on them. Besides which, even if they don't, what is to stop us from simply doing the same thing to all of their worlds? Do to them what they have done to us - its not like they can do anything worse to us than they've already done."

"True, but think of what the Covenant have become in our eyes since they started glassing planets - monsters, the vilest creature that Hell itself spewed up. Do we really want to become like that? Can we stomach the price of mass xenocide just to keep us alive? What would the human race do if they found out what we were planning?"

"To be honest sir, I don't think they'd care all that much. As you said, we've demonised the Covenant so much that everyone would think that were doing the right thing - giving them a taste of their own medicine, fighting fire with fire. Whatever you want to call it, that's how they'd see it that way.

I'll be honest sir, if its a choice between them and us, I know which I'd prefer to survive. If we don't do this - or something equally as radical, then the human race is dead sir."

"Very well Colonel. To be honest I agree with you wholeheartedly. Whether or not ONI will is another matter; that's why I put all those rather strange questions about the morality of this to you; you can expect the same - and worse - from ONI when you answer to them. Incidentally - you're well known as one of the few practicing Christians in the Corps, how does this sit with God? Would you not be committing a massacre of the largest scale on His children?"

"No sir, I don't believe it is the will of God for us to be destroyed - the Bible tells us that Jesus came to save the world because God loved us. I don't think He'd send another agent to see to our destruction. I also believe that it is the will of God that we use - if necessary - this plan. If it didn't feel right with God then I wouldn't have suggested it to you.

The Archbishop may not agree with me, but..."

"Archbishop? I thought the Pope was leader of the Church."

"The Catholic Church sir; I'm Church of England."

"Ah, again I display my ignorance of all things religious. Anyway, you were saying."

"Yes sir, I was saying that the Archbishop may not agree with me, but then even the leaders of the Church are not infallible. In fact, there have been several occasions over the centuries since the founding of the Christian Church when the leader have been proved conclusively... but you couldn't really care less could you sir."

"Not really Colonel. Faith is for those who believe I always say. Anyway, I shall put your request through to ONI. You may expect to be called in for questioning about the project in a few days' time. I'll do my best to put in a good word, sway their opinion, but I can't promise anything mind."

"Thank you sir, I couldn't ask anything more of you."

Philips saluted the Board of ONI Executives, turned and walked out of the dimly lit conference room. As the doors slid silently shut behind him, he sagged against the wall with relief. For more than three hours the brass had been intensively grilling him about his proposal. Admiral Carter had been right; their interrogation had been far more searching and aggressive than his.

'I got them though!' He thought triumphantly, 'I should've known those ONI ghouls wouldn't have cared about the morality of it - they just care about feasibility and results. I had them eating out of the palm of my hand!' Philips allowed himself a satisfied chuckle as he straightened up and left the High Com. facility and headed for his Pelican transport. He couldn't hang around here; he had so much to get done.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Awaken Children, It's Time To Kill

Corporal Thomas 'Dug' Neary floated somewhere in a warm, dark dream world. He couldn't see or hear anything except a steady, rhythmic pounding. He listened to it; such a long time he listened. Just as he began to wonder where he was, voices intruded, very faintly, on his little womb of unconsciousness:

"How's this one doing doctor?"

The voice seemed to reverberate through his body, now louder, now softer, like a badly tuned radio. A second ethereal voice, equally distant, answered,

"He's been out for quite a while, but that's only to be expected: we've messed his body up pretty bad, its only natural that he'll take a while to recover."

"Messed it up!" The voice was sharp, urgent, and Neary could distinguish it far more clearly now than even a few seconds ago, "don't tell me he's useless! We've already had eleven crippled and three dead!"

"No no," the voice was soothing, calming, and Neary slipped back into the warm, dreamy embrace of his mind, "I mean the processes themselves have altered his body quite radically - what you're seeing now is just the brain getting used to all the changes. This one will be fine."

Neary felt a touch of consciousness return, as a hand gently stroked his face. The first voice spoke softly; so softly that he could barely hear what was said:

"Don't give up now son - there's great things in store for you."

Reassured by the voice and the touch, Neary slipped back once more into the enveloping darkness.

Philips drew his hand back gently, as the soldier's breathing evened, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and he lapsed back into sleep. The colonel looked down at the corporal and smiled. This one would do fine; very few of the Firewalls had had sufficient strength - both of body and of mind - to return to even the semblance of consciousness Neary had achieved, and so far none had gone further. Whether any would do so remained to be seen.

This Neary though, he was officer material is Philips ever saw it. Anyone who could resist the anaesthetics these soldiers had been given - however slightly - was clearly more than strong enough to take the burdens of power. Yes, he could definitely see great things in store for this one. Philips pulled back his lips and exposed his teeth in a way that could barely be called a smile; snarl would be a better way of putting it. The colonel moved on to the next bed.

Firewall-342 opened his bleary eyes, then closed them again sharply as the harsh white light stabbed at his unprepared retinas. He brought a hand up to shield his face and once more opened his eyes. His muscles felt strangely heavy, as if they had been inactive for a long time. Then the first drops of memory began to surface.

He had been injected with something - quite a lot of whatever it was - and the doctors had laid him down in an irradiated cubicle, away from all the others. _Drip... drip... drip. _He remembered looking around at the suited surgeons, then his eyes had begun to droop, and then... blackness. Warm, all-encompassing blankness that had enveloped him for so long. So he had been unconscious for a while - that explained his strangely slow limbs.

But why? Why had he been under the knife? He dredged the sluggish pools of memory, and suddenly it surged up from the turgid depths like a kraken - one word; _FIREWALL._

He sat bolt upright as the realisation of what must have happened struck him like a mallet; he had applied for the FIREWALL project. He and many others had been taken to a facility buried deep beneath the Remarkables - yes, he remembered his final night of leave before the procedures - he'd got drunk in Queenstown with some friends - and where were they now? - and fallen in the lake. He'd been chewed off a strip for that; patients were not supposed to have imbibed alcohol 24 hours before the operations, but to hell with it, everything seemed fine now.

The memory unspooled like a roll of film - the long ride down in the elevator, then the prep room; all the prospective Firewalls had been asked to strip and enter the testing facility. Various tests had been taken for height, weight, and any number of other factors known only to the surgeons. Then the injections, and then...

He swung his legs out of the bed, and the room swayed around him. He almost collapsed back onto the pillows, but managed to stay upright. He was about to push himself to his feet when a soft voice spoke over the speakers sunk into the wall.

"Please relax Corporal, a nurse is being sent to administer to you. You may be interested to know that your operation went fine - in a week you will be operating at full capacity once more."

'_Full capacity? Who the hell speaks like that? Ah, must be an AI.'_

"Thank you computer. May I ask what exactly has been done to me? I feel... woozy."

"You have undergone extensive surgery to improve your musculature, stamina and reflexes, as per Section IX of the Project FIREWALL Operational Dossier," the AI answered matter-of-factly.

"Wow, thanks for the help," he muttered under his breath.

"You're welcome," the computer responded, a slight hint of humour in it's synthesised voice. Maybe it wasn't as dumb as -342 had thought.

'_So, FIREWALL hmm. Well, I suppose there's no going back now - might as well enjoy the ride while it lasts."_

Philips ascended the podium and looked out at the five hundred and thirteen faces ranged before him. Thirty seven dead or crippled during the operations. Despite the concerns of the surgeons, Philips was glad of those procedures - they had culled the weak from the ranks of his beloved Firewalls.

Now this before him was truly an elite unit. Section III could keep their precious Spartan III project - where were they when humanity needed them? Still being trained, still little more than augmented children. His Firewalls were ready for battle now, after only a week of post-augmentation training.

And the results were truly incredible - even the slowest of the Firewalls could clock speeds of up to 35 kph, and the fastest were reaching speeds that equalled even the mighty Spartan IIs.

'_The Spartans IIs, now there's a fighting force worthy of praise,' _Philips thought suddenly, _'what were the odds I wonder, that the most perfect soldiers ever created would be finished just in time to fight our deadliest enemy? Divine intervention if ever I saw it - yet again God gives us what we need to fight Satan's agents.'_

But the Firewalls, if not Spartan IIs, were the next best thing. Strong enough to put a fist through a concrete wall, and with reflexes good enough to all but dodge bullets.

'_And so many of them too! If thirty Spartans can do what they did, what kind of damage can _five hundred _scarcely less efficient warriors do!'_

Philips took a moment to compose his thoughts - the Firewalls had been rushed through their augmentations, and the speed of their training couldn't stop now. This, his first speech to them, had to fire them up, to stir their emotions. He took a deep breath, and spoke.

"Firewalls! All of you here must remember one thing - you may not be invincible, you may not be perfect soldiers, but dammit! You're the best damn warriors humanity has produced in it's hour of need, and with God on your side, you will not fail! The Covenant are the instruments of Satan sent to destroy God's children! You, every one of you, from first to last, are the human race's guardian angels! I look upon you now, and I see more than soldiers; I see my God's answer to a threat, and I see my children. For you are, in a way, my children, and I can tell you now that as my children I love each and every one of you. Because of that love you may be sure that I will never waste your lives. Some of you will die, but that's always been the soldier's lot hasn't it - your blood pays for the medals of the officers who send you to die - _but not you! _If any one of you dies, it will never be for a lost cause, never for a hopeless case!

I will not lie to you - I say again, some of you will die, but do not fear death! Those who die will go to the presence of God. So do not fear death, but rather bring it to your enemies! Firewalls! _For God and glory!"_

"_GOD AND GLORY!" _Philips cry was taken up by the five-hundred-strong crowd, and the roar grew and grew, until it was a wall of noise. Almost all of the Firewalls shared none of Philips' beliefs, but at that moment, they would have cheered anything Philips' said - he owned them now; they would gladly charge headlong at the sun if he had asked them to.

Philips stepped down from the podium, rubbing his aching throat as the roar died down, and the Firewalls moved away from the parade ground where they had gathered. They would, in three hours time, be going to the briefing rooms where each unit - under the command of a Spartan II - would be briefed on their mission. Philips too started to walk away, but before he could go more than ten yards, a hand reached out and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Colonel Philips - a word if you please." The Colonel looked around into the ice-blue eyes of Admiral Carter.

"Yes sir, of course. In private?"

"If you would be so kind." Something in the Admiral's voice worried Philips, perhaps it was the unusually deferential tone - not quite subservient, but not quite the Admiral's usual commanding bark either.

"Please sir, follow me, we can talk in my office."

"He _what!"_ Philips all but screamed.

"Surely you heard the news - Earth came under attack not three hours ago - the Covenant landed at New Mombasa, and the Master Chief was sent to deal with them. When the Covenant fled the planet, the Chief went with them. I'm sorry commander, but Master Chief Spartan 117 is no longer on Earth - if fact, we have absolutely no idea where the hell he is, but we can say for sure that it isn't anywhere near Earth, or any of the surrounding systems. You'll have to find another squad leader for your operation."

"There _is _no other! Damn! This is just the sort of thing that would happen to me!"

"Could you not send another soldier?"

"_No!" _Philips almost shouted, "I, I mean no sir; it absolutely_ must _be a Spartan - surely there are more!"

"Colonel, I am filled with sympathy for your troubles, but do not forget yourself. You know full well that, with the departure of the Master Chief there are only three Spartans left on Earth. You must either be satisfied with them, and divide your forces accordingly, or you must find a replacement."

"Very well... very well!" Philips' tone was now almost jovial, "_I _shall go instead - if I am there with them I can be sure that the plans go off without a hitch - yes, this is almost perfect."

"With respect Colonel - and I know this is your pet project - I am pretty boned up on the details of the mission you have planned for the Firewalls, and I don't think anyone who hasn't been enhanced the way your troops have stands any chance of survival. I strongly suggest that you remain here."

"No sir, I assure you I will be fine - after all, I will have the best soldiers in the UNSC - and my God - to protect me."

"Colonel, I really think you are making a mistake. Do not make me order you to stay."

"Admiral please - I am fully aware of the danger, and I am confident of my safety. I must demand that you allow me to go."

"Colonel, you are a valuable man, and the last thing the UNSC needs now is to lose one of it's best men. I am sorry about this, but I must order you to st..."

"_NO!" _Philips shouted, and slammed his fist through the two-inch thick steel of his desk. He leapt to his feet so swiftly that his chair was catapulted into the pre-fab material of his office wall, where it stuck. The Admiral too rose to his feet in alarm, and stood there, as Philips leant across the desk and snarled,

"Admiral this is _my _project, _mine! _I have spent too long planning this for you to ruin it now! It was my intention to brief the Chief fully enough to carry out the mission completely, but in his absence, I am the only one who can do so. Do not try to stop me Admiral, or I will be forced to... take steps." He looked pointedly down at the hole he had punched through his desk, then back up at the Admiral.

Admiral Carter stood in shock. His immediate thought was _'Good God! He's mad!'_ and so it seemed - there could be no other reason for Philips' disgraceful conduct. He looked carefully down at the Philips' fist, and saw barely a mark on it. He looked at the hole in the desk, and comprehension dawned, and with it, a wave of fear built within him. He managed to speak.

"My God - you've had the upgrades!"

"Yes Admiral, I have - you didn't honestly think I'd let such opportunities go to waste did you?"

The Admiral was now afraid for his life - he was trapped in this room with a possibly insane man who could easily punch through his chest before he could draw his firearm. He did the only thing he could; he surrendered.

"Very well Colonel, in the light of recent developments I see that you are fit to take personal command of this operation."

He managed not to sigh with relief as the dangerous glint faded from Philips' eyes, and the Colonel removed his chair from the wall.

"Thank you Admiral. I promise you will not regret this decision."

'_Maybe not, but I know I'll never forget this moment Philips. Rest assured, I will never forget the day you threatened my life.'_

"In which case Colonel, I will take my leave. I wish you the best of luck with your mission." The Admiral walked slowly from the room.

'_I shouldn't have done that,' _Philips thought, _'I should've kept this a secret. But he tried to stop me going, I couldn't allow that. Perhaps this was for the best - after all, Admiral Carter will surely have more confidence in me, knowing what I am."_

Philips gathered his belongings - such as he would need - and left the room. He had to brief his beloved Firewalls on their mission. And the Spartan IIs, well, the Spartan IIs couldn't prevent God's Will - the Firewalls would rise up to the highest point, and he, Philips, would lead them there.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Penetrate, Annihilate, Steal Everything of Value, Run Away

The ship _gleamed._ It was a thing of beauty; no other ship of the fleet was as glamorous as the _Invincible; _the reflective coating that covered her entire surface glittered in the starlight. She had had to be kept over the dark side of Jupiter, since sunlight reflected off her so fiercely that it couldn't be looked at.

'_And she's mine,' _thought Captain Strachan. He was one of the Firewalls, specifically number 507 - one of the thirteen who were not part of the marine division; he was part of the Firewall bridge crew. He had known this ship scarcely an hour, and already he recognised her as the thing of beauty she was. All but unarmed, her only compliment was two squadrons of altered Longsword fighters, specially designed to penetrate a ship's shields, and a small number of 50 mm autocannons - again specially adapted; because such a small number had to defend the entire ship they were mounted on rails that ran the length of the vessel - the cannons could track enemy fighters anywhere over the ship, providing a point defence almost as effective as that of any ship with a full compliment of defence cannons.

Strachan hoped that they wouldn't be necessary - if the Covenant got in that close, the ship was pretty much screwed - they had no proper weapons; the space and power demands of the magnetic field disruptor saw to that. The entire operation depended entirely on the as-yet untested defensive mechanisms the ship possessed. Captain Strachan hoped like hell they'd work; it'd be such a shame to destroy something so beautiful.

A point in space some twenty two light years from Earth suddenly boiled. Greenish swirls of light streamed away from that point, and glimmers of red sparkled within them. To Ship Master Erle 'Docamee it was a breathtaking sight, a thing so beautiful it snatched at his heart. And what emerged from the centre of it was scarcely less so - the ship that slid from the tear in real-space was streamlined, sleek like a dolphin. It shone like a sun in the reflected light of the slip-stream rupture, and for an instant, framed behind it, 'Docamee could see, glowing like a hellish halo around the ship, the chaotic, swirling, red and purple vortexes of slip space.

It was a shame, all things considered, that it would be his duty to destroy this ship. The communications officer on his destroyer, the _Divine Majesty, _had intercepted a distress signal from the human ship _Invincible_ three units ago, which stated that the ship had run into overwhelming enemy forces and was fleeing it's patrol route. 'Docamee thanked the Forerunner that it had been him who had received this message, him who would accrue the honour of destroying this new human vessel, but it was still a shame that this splendid craft - so similar in looks to a Covenant ship - had to be eliminated.

"Navigation, did you catch that on the fore cameras?"

"Yes excellency," his navigation officer replied.

'Docamee was glad that he would at least have this image left after his work was done. It was with a pang of regret that he spoke next:

"Destroy it."

"Captain, we have picked up locking signals from the Covenant vessel. Sir, they're preparing to fire on us."

"Lieutenant Perron, warm up the disruptor. Lets give these aliens a shock."

"Yes sir, running start up procedures for the disruptor now." Lieutenant Perron tapped out a series of commands on his console. His hands were shaking ever so slightly, but that was only to be expected - every bridge officer experienced the spike of adrenaline and the shakiness that followed whenever entering a combat situation, and the exceptional circumstances he was in didn't help. He took a deep breath and forced himself to be calm. He had to admit that the Captain's presence helped greatly - Strachan was as solid and dependable as a rock; it was almost impossible not to feel reassured when on his bridge.

"Sir, disruptor running at 100. We're ready for them sir."

"Not a moment too soon Lieutenant. Look."

Strachan gestured at the large viewport at the front of the bridge; the Covenant destroyer had turned broadside to them, and lines of red light could already be seen building up along it's lateral lines.

Strachan strode to the bridge's comm. panel, and keyed in the channel to the Firewall quarters. A gruff face appeared in the screen, and the Firewall spoke:

"Sir, Sergeant Neary reporting."

"Sergeant, we've encountered a Covenant destroyer. Get your men down to the Pelican bays and prepare the boarding parties."

"Yes sir. We'll be ready in five sir."

The newly promoted Sergeant Neary (Firewall -342) turned to face the five hundred and three warriors lined up in the long barracks room that was theirs.

"Firewalls, Covenant vessel detected, this is it! I want everybody down at the Pelican bays in five! Spartan -058 a word if you would!"

The Firewalls stowed their baggage, grabbed their gear and streamed past Neary and out of the barracks. Spartan -058, better known as Linda, walked up to him. Neary gazed up at the 6'11' behemoth, resplendent in her Mark VI Mjolnir armour, and swallowed.

"Spartan, once we're aboard the ship, I want you and your squad to stick near Colonel Philips and his team. He'll be coming aboard too, God only knows why, but he's gonna need some help out there. I hope I can count on you to keep him safe?"

"Don't worry Sergeant, if any Covies come knocking, we'll tell them the Colonel isn't home."

Neary grinned, and the Spartan pointed a finger to her visor, then ran off to take command of her squad. Neary himself was under the command of Spartan -104, Fred. Their assignment was to sweep the ship clean of any Covenant between them and the engine room. Neary grabbed his pack and hurried after his squad - no-one wanted to be left behind when the fight started.

"Captain! Plasma torpedoes away! They'll impact with us in 27 seconds and counting."

"Like hell they will! Lieutenant Perron focus the disruptor on those torpedoes, make sure they don't scratch the paint work!"

Captain Strachan counted down silently in his head. At ten he was starting to worry that the disruptor wouldn't work after all, but then, _7..._

"Sir! Torpedoes vaporised! It worked sir!"

A cheer went around the bridge, which the Captain quickly silenced,

"Quiet everyone! This battle's far from over! Lieutenant Gerrard, I want you to launch Longsword Squadron Alpha as soon as we disrupt their next salvo; the haze should give them a sufficient smoke screen to get clear! Then as soon as they engage the far side of that destroyer I want you to launch Squadron Beta and the Pelicans! We've got to get the timing perfect or everything is lost!"

"Captain, second salvo away! Pulse lasers charging! From the energy reading it looks like they'll hit us with those lasers at the same time as the torpedoes hit."

"Thank you Lieutenant. Perron, keep that disruptor hot, we'll need every ounce of juice you can squeeze from it."

The large red blobs of light leapt from the side of the Covenant vessel and sped towards the _Invincible._ Lieutenant Perron bent over his console and tapped furiously on it. As the plasma torpedoes closed to 300 km they began to waver around the edges as the disruptor took effect. At 200 km they dissolved completely, leaving a boiling cloud of red mist. As Lieutenant Gerrard cried,

"Captain, Squadron Alpha away,"

Lances of blue light tore through the red cloud; Covenant pulse lasers. They flashed instantaneously across the few remaining kilometres between cloud and ship - beams of pure, devastating energy - and bounced harmlessly off the prow. Lieutenant Carson, the navigation officer, let out a laugh that was almost a scream;

"Ha ha! Captain! We scored a direct hit with their own lasers!"

"Very good Carson. Lieutenant Gerrard, how's Alpha Squadron doing?"

"They're within range now Captain, they're waiting for your signal to engage."

"Tell them to engage Lieutenant."

The fifteen silver specks flared - the Longswords too had been plated with the reflective coating - as they launched a barrage of Archer missiles towards the _Divine Majesty. _The thirty missiles flashed through space and impacted on the ship's shields, which swirled around the impact sites. Point defence pulse lasers flashed from the destroyer, only to bounce off the Longswords' flanks and flash harmlessly into the depths of space. The Longswords flew straight over the destroyer, banked sharply and flew back to engage it from the opposite flank.

"Gerrard, launch Beta Squadron and the Pelicans, its time to board these mothers."

"Aye Captain, birds away."

The fifteen Longswords of Beta Squadron launched away from the _Invincible _and formed up into a defensive formation as the fleet of Pelicans streamed from their launch bays. The five hundred Firewalls and their four squad leaders - the three Spartans and Colonel Philips - were packed onto the forty two Pelicans, twelve men to a Pelican, with a full compliment of ordnance and equipment.

Captain Strachan looked out of the starboard viewport at the vast fleet of Pelicans as they nosed their way into space, and formed up behind the Longswords.

"Beautiful, just beautiful," he whispered.

"Sir?" Questioned Lieutenant Carson.

"Nothing Lieutenant. Order Beta Squadron to engage. They should know the drill. Tell them to engage at attack points echo, kilo and zulu."

Lieutenant Carson whispered the orders into the microphone built into his console, and the fleet split into three separate attack squads; five Longswords and fourteen Pelicans in each. The squads raced towards their designated targets - the fore, midship and aft launch bays.

Every ship flared, and two hundred and eighty five missile flashed towards their targets - three areas ten feet square on the Covenant shields. Unfortunately for the Covenant, their shields were generalised over their ship, and couldn't withstand the massively concentrated firepower of ninety five Archer and Anvil missiles on to such a small area. Three ten by ten holes were punched through the shields, and the forty two Pelican streamed through. The fifteen Longswords of Beta Squadron peeled off and began to patrol the flanks of the Covenant vessel, pulse laser shots bouncing continually from their sides.

Within the protective screen of the ship's shields forty two Pelicans hovered in close phalanx formations outside the three launch bays. The Covenant troops inside the midship launch bay stared up in wonder at the fourteen gleaming, silver ships that hovered not thirty feet from them. A deathly silence filled the bay. Almost a hundred Elites, Jackals, Grunts and even a few Brutes stared at the small heads that turned within the cockpits. The pilots of the Pelicans looked around the bay, their 70 mm rotary chin cannons following the movements of their helmets. First Flight Officer Maria Wincott took stock of the situation, fixed the locations of the various enemy units in her mind, then spoke into her headset:

"Betas One through Six focus on those Seraphs, Seven through Fourteen lets lay down the law - open up!"

Fourteen 70 mm cannons choked and spat death. The high explosive rounds tore through flesh, armour and deck plating alike. Anvil HE rockets streaked through the pressurised air and detonated, spraying blood and shrapnel.

Five of the Pelicans turned their attention to the clusters of Seraph fighters docked in the bay. Rounds from their chin guns ripped through their unshielded hulls like they were no more than paper. Within twenty seconds fully half of the forty Seraphs were lying in smoking ruins, their vital systems hit. Volley after volley of Anvil rockets flashed from under the Pelicans' wings and detonated the remaining Seraphs, spraying the bay with white hot shards of metal that cut through the Covenant troops like butter.

"Look out!" Came the voice of Beta Three, "that Covie's making a run for the bay shield switch!"

The cry was echoed by pilots in Alpha and Charlie squads, as aliens dashed through the hail of bullets for the switch that would activate the bays' shields, and seal the Pelicans outside. Flight Officer Wincott shouted orders into her microphone, then dropped her bird down a few feet and turned it through 180 degrees. A blast of atmosphere shot out the back as the transport bay of the Pelican depressurised explosively. The eleven Firewalls in their lightweight polymer body suits hung on to the handholds fiercely. Along the hull of the destroyer the move was copied by two Pelicans outside the other bays, and the Spartans inside those Pelicans took action: Linda, at the fore bay, levelled her sniper rifle, and it cracked noiselessly into the empty space. The Elite that had been lucky enough to escape the Pelicans' cannons was launched backwards by the force of the high-caliber bullet entering it's skull. Will, outside the aft bay, shouldered his Jackhammer launcher and sent a 102 mm shaped charge flashing towards the two Brutes that had almost reached the switches. Fred, in Wincott's Pelican, wasted no time on these methods, but launched himself bodily out of the Pelican, through the intervening space, and collided at high speed, half a ton of Spartan and armour, with the three Grunts making a run for the switch. Unprepared for the assault, the Grunts were flattened instantly - they lay on the deck, their bones crushed by the impact. Fred rolled at once to his feet and snapped off seven controlled bursts from his BR 55; seven Covenant soldiers cowering behind massive bulkheads where even the heavy rounds of the Pelicans' chin guns couldn't reach them, fell, their skulls pierced by the three rounds that hammered into their brains.

"Move out squad! Let's help out that Spartan!" Bellowed Sergeant Neary to the rest of his eight man squad.

The Firewalls reacted instantly, and with pinpoint precision. In pairs they too launched themselves from the rear of the dropship and landed with deck-denting _thuds _not five feet from Fred. Once all eight were on the deck they fanned out into a hemisphere with the Spartan at the apex and fired controlled bursts from their weapons, keeping the few remaining Covenant pinned down until the three Firewalls in their Pelican, who had been covering their assault, landed next to them.

"Lock and load Firewalls! Let's move let's move let's move!" Wincott shouted into her mike, "Betas One through Seven land your troops, Eight through Fourteen keep those Covies pinned, then reverse roles when One through Seven have unloaded!"

With endlessly practised skill half the Pelicans in each squad turned to point their hatches at the bays. Eighty four Firewalls streamed into each bay, and began to spread out through the various decks, under the covering fire of the other seven Pelicans. Once each soldier was on the deck the seven Pelicans turned back round and fired at anything inhuman that moved in the bay. The other seven then also reversed and launched their troops into the bay. Within minutes of the start of the attack the bays had been effectively neutralised, and the 126 guns of Beta squad were pointed at the entrances to the bays.

Philips' voice rang through the comms of Beta team:

"Beta team, move out and secure the surrounding corridors, Delta team is moving in now."

"You heard the Colonel troops, lets move out!" Fred called to the Firewalls. In the Spartan's heads-up display the schematics of the ship flashed up, with the corridors his team was to cover. Some considerate person had even colour co-ordinated individual corridors according to which fire team was to take them.

Alpha team had been assigned the task of securing the corridors between the fore launch bay and the armoury, Beta was to clear the corridors between the midship bay and the bridge, Charlie was to take command of the ship between the aft bay and the engine room. Delta team, under the command of Colonel Philips, had the most difficult task of securing the rest of the ship - there could be no Covenant troops left on the ship when it returned to Earth, or the Firewalls would be held responsible for an act of high treason; leading enemies to Earth - although in Philips' opinion that law was ridiculous now that the Covenant had already found it.

Private First Class Kevin Chung had the unfortunate duty of rearguard for his fireteam. His nerves were quite definitely on edge as the eight man team crept through the dark corridors of the ship, and the added adrenaline that gave him was probably what saved his life. No sooner had he slid through the doorway of a large cross section where two corridors intersected than the door at the far end slammed shut, cutting off half of the squad, including Sergeant Neary. Six Elites and a brace of Grunts burst from the corridor to their left. The four Firewalls, reacting with the speed born of genetic enhancements, turned towards them and opened fire while backing away. Two Elites and three Grunts had fallen to the deck by the time the other three Firewalls had backed into the right-hand corridor, and the doors slid shut for a moment, only to reopen to a hail of bullets and a trio of grenades, which sailed down the corridor and landed at the feet of the Covenant squad. Three of the remaining four Elites were shredded by the explosions, and the remaining Grunts soon dropped to the sharp retorts of the Firewalls' battle rifles.

Unfortunately for Chung, the surviving Elite did so by diving desperately through the door which he, Chung, had retreated into. The Elite rolled to his feet not eight inches from Chung, and came up nose to nose with the human. With a roar of rage the Elite knocked the rifle from Chung's hands quicker than Chung could react, even with his enhancements. He was quick enough, however, to flip backwards as the second hand flashed towards his face, with a claw-like knife set on it. Bellowing in frustration the Elite followed up it's failed punch with a flying kick. The alien sailed through the air with an astonishing grace, only to be knocked backwards by Chung's fist, that slammed into it's face with enough force to punch through a concrete wall. The Elite's shield flickered and died, but again it reacted with astonishing speed; it turned it's sudden backward momentum into a tucked roll, landed on it's feet and slammed it's hoof into Chung's midriff.

Chung flew back and slid, winded, into the wall. He scrambled away from the Elite, struggling to breathe, as it advanced towards him. It's mandibles flared with a grim satisfaction as Chung backed up against a locked door. Unable to breathe, Chung looked up at the Elite as it prepared to kick his helmet, and his face, through his brain. To the right of the Elite, and slightly behind, Chung caught a glimmer of white light, then a glimpse of movement. He grinned evilly at the alien before him:

"Heads up."

Before the Elite could move, 14 stone of bone and muscle, in the shape of Sergeant Neary, slammed feet first into it's unshielded neck. His heavy combat boots snapped the alien's neck like a dry twig, and his Magnum 6C sidearm put two rounds into it's skull as he landed on it's chest.

"Come on Private, can't hang around to baby-sit you - let's move, we've got wounded back at the squad's position."

Still having difficulty breathing, Chung leapt to his feet, recovered his battle rifle from the floor, and appropriated two plasma grenades from the Elite's corpse.

The squad had regrouped just beyond the point of the ambush. It wrenched Chung's heart to see the two lifeless bodies of his fellow Firewalls.

"We were ambushed too," Sergeant Neary explained, "they didn't reach cover in time." Heavy sorrow dogged his words, and his shoulders were slumped slightly. But only for a moment.

"Corporal Russell, mark this place with a nav point marker, we'll come back for their bodies after we've completed our objectives. Let's move out squad, and we'll keep an eye out for possible ambush spots. Chung, alert the rest of the squads to the possible location of ambushes. Come on now, let's make the bridge in time for the party."

Fire team Beta 7 picked up their weapons, and moved on through the dark corridors towards their ultimate goal; the bridge.

Linda darted down the corridor towards the marker that showed Colonel Philips' location. She had her orders; look after him. Her team was just behind, keeping pace easily, while still covering the doors that lead off the corridor they were in. A warning blip from her suit alerted her to the imminent danger. She threw herself sideways at full speed, and just cleared the explosion that vaporised one of her troops and put a sizeable hole in the wall, through which plasma fire streamed. The other seven Firewalls, equally swift, had hurled four grenades through the hole almost the moment it appeared. The dull _thumps_ sent tatters of flesh and shards of shrapnel flying through the hole, but still more Covenant troops poured through. Raising their battle rifles the Firewalls opened up, cutting down the aliens with efficiency and precision. All this took barely a second, so by the time Linda rolled upright, and took a knee, bullets were sheeting through the air towards the aliens, and bolts of plasma were screaming in the opposite direction. As of yet no Firewalls other than the one caught in the initial explosion had died, but that situation wouldn't last if Linda didn't act.

Raising her adapted sniper rifle, she emptied the twelve round clip into the Covenant firing from behind the jagged shards of metal around the hole. As the nine aliens clustered around the side she could get an angle on fell, the others retreated, grouping around her blind side.

'_Perfect,' _she thought, and pulled a frag grenade from her belt. Priming it, she tossed it at the side of the hole. It bounced back and landed on the opposite side of the wall, right at the aliens' feet. They didn't even have time to scream before the explosion consumed them. Getting to her feet, her FoF sensors cold, she beckoned the seven Firewalls on, and ran down the corridor again, headed for Colonel Philips.

Colonel Philips, however, was the last person who needed her help. He hurried down corridor after corridor, his battle rifle raised to his shoulder, fighting with a passion only those in the grips of righteous fury can achieve. The Covenant troops, either brave or foolish enough to oppose him, were scythed down like grass. He stormed into a room, his fire team barely keeping up. They followed him in, only to see three Covenant warriors lying dead in pools of their own blood. The door at the far end of the room opened, and ten Elites and five Grunts charged through. The first Elite dropped almost instantaneously, six rounds shattering it's shields, and three more penetrating it's brain. The Grunts died almost as quickly as the eight Firewalls opened up.

Philips pulled the trigger of his rifle, only to hear the _click _of an empty clip. Snarling in fury he hurled it aside, pulled his two magnums from their holsters and darted to cover behind a metal table, firing as he went. Pausing behind the table only long enough to reload he rose up and emptied the clips at one of the three remaining Elites. Another fell to the combined fire of the Firewalls. Philips dropped his empty pistols, and ran towards the last Elite. Five feet from it he leapt into the air, his legs out infront of him. His left boot nestled snugly on the Elites shoulder, up against it's neck. Still in mid-air, his right boot scissored across, slamming into the Elite's skull, and shattering the bones in it's neck. Thrusting the corpse away from him he landed smoothly on his feet, recovered his weapons, reloaded them and holstered his pistols. Looking over his shoulder at his stunned fire team, he grinned wolfishly and moved on towards the armoury.

The large doors opened before him, and Colonel Philips looked out in to a vast room; the armoury. Catwalks criss-crossed the room, and observation bays ringed the upper borders. Lined along the edges of the room, and in racks throughout it, stores of every weapon conceivable in the Covenant arsenal, from sidearms to huge antimatter charges capable of putting a hole through a UNSC carrier, lay, unused, just ready for the UNSC forces to plunder.

"Spread out men, lets clear this room."

The nine fire teams that had so far reached the armoury fanned out through the racks and racks of weapons, and spread to the upper decks. Philips walked into a cleared space in the centre of the room, listening absently to the intermittent cracking of small arms fire as the Firewalls engaged the scattered Convenant resistance, and looked around him. Weapons that no human had ever seen before were stashed around him - this must be the experimental weapons storage area. He knew that he was meant to be sweeping the ship clean, scouring those areas uncovered by the other squads, but the lure of the armoury had been too strong, and besides, his team was superfluous to requirements, they only had to check a few key rooms that would already have been cleared.

A sudden _crack _reverberated through the room, and a Jackal fell from a catwalk above him, it's beam rifle clattering to the deck at Philips' feet. He inspected the Jackal's corpse, and found a 14.5 mm bullet lodged in it's brain. He looked up in surprise, and saw the Spartan, Linda, give him a brief salute. He saluted back, turned away, and walked on through the racks of weapons, keeping a sharp eye on the catwalks.

Linda sighed with relief. That had been close, too close. Philips would probably never know how near he'd come to death - zoomed in, she could see the Jackal's scope, and it had been centred on Philips' head.

"Sir, Sergeant Neary reporting."

"Very good Sergeant. Prep your squad, we'll be assaulting the bridge in a few moments."

Neary saluted the massive Spartan and moved away to brief his squad. After twenty five minutes of hard fighting his fire team had reached the bridge - ahead of any other team. Neary had taken a slight pride in that. He was also relieved that he had managed to get his team to their destination with no further casualties. He was almost glad to see that his wasn't the only team with members missing - it meant that his commanding wasn't at fault.

Thirteen of the fifteen fire teams of Beta squad were assembled around the entrance to the bridge. Fred opened a link to all of them and outlined the plan of attack. Neary moved his team towards their designated entrance - on the starboard side of the bridge. He gave the ready signal to Fred and waited for the order to move.

Even through the thick metal doors Neary could hear the slightly muffled sounds of the first assault. Fred was leading five of the thirteen fire teams through the aft doorway, drawing Covenant fire towards them. Neary hoped they would reach cover as planned without losing anyone. As the sounds of the battle within peaked, Neary just heard the opening of the fore door, and the vicious assault of four fire teams as they tore into the Covenants' unprotected backs. They too took cover as soon as possible, and opened up in earnest. Just as the Covenant were beginning to respond effectively to this new assault, Neary heard a whispered _'Now' _from Fred, and waved his team forward. He ran forward, taking point, and burst through the starboard door. He assessed the situation instantly - no Covenant troops had yet noticed their entrance, there were a number of metallic desks around that could be over turned and used for cover. Signalling the four fire teams under his command, he sprinted over to a desk, flipped it onto it's side, crouched behind it, and tossed a grenade into a group of three Grunts and an Elite that were crouched into a recessed area of the floor and firing at Fred's squad. The grenade landed, unnoticed, behind them and detonated, shredding them. The eight newly arrived and barely depleted fireteams - his four and the four under the command of Sergeant Carella who had entered from the port side at the same time as him - were under cover and ready to open up on his signal.

He raised his rifle and gave the signal; three 9.5 mm bullets to the back of a Jackal's head. Fifty seven rifles barked and roared. Eight Brutes, twelve Jackals, nine Elites and a Grunt fell in the first volley, leaving only two Elites, a Brute and three Grunts left alive on the bridge. Neary sent three battle rifle rounds into the Brute's eye, and the other aliens didn't last much longer.

Carella stood, scanned the bridge, and announced it clear. Fifty of the remaining hundred and five Firewalls of Beta squad immediately secured the entrances to the bridge, while the others set up firing positions within the large room itself. Neary and Carella walked over to Fred and saluted. Fred returned their salute, and said,

"At ease soldiers."

The two sergeants relaxed as much as was possible in a hostile zone, then Neary said,

"What now sir? We were only briefed this far; we were told you would know what to do next."

Fred's helmet shifted slightly from side to side as he surveyed the surrounding area, then he answered,

"We need to find a usable computer access port. I need to upload our assigned AI to the ship's network."

"Over there sir, that should be sufficient," Sergeant Carella said, pointing to a terminal with a small slot in the side. Fred strode over to it, pulled a small translucent chip from the port at his neck and slid it into the terminal. There was a brief humming sound from the comm. speakers, then a voice spoke:

"You were late gentlemen - all the other squads have completed their assignments. The ship is clear of Covenant forces."

"Who is that?" Neary asked Fred - the voice was maddeningly familiar, but he just couldn't place it.

"I am Kendra, smart AI, service number 1977-854-345-k. I am the sister AI of Cortana, who is currently with the Spartan known as Master Chief -117. You should know me Sergeant Neary - I was the first person you ever spoke to after you woke from your operations.

'_Of course,' _Neary thought, _'I knew I recognised that smart-ass voice."_

He smiled at the thought, and said,

"What now Kendra?"

"Now we'll take this thing back to Earth, just as soon as the specified bridge crew for this mission get here from the _Invincible_," a pause, then, "which they just have. Come on gentlemen, let's get this whale moving."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Countdown to the Death of a World

Let the eye of imagination sweep in from the empty wastes of interstellar space. A point of light draws it in, into a tiny plane mere light hours across. Nine planets circle a small sun. The mind rushes across the billions of miles of nothingness, towards a vast, red-brown planet composed of swirling gases. Tiny specks of greyish metal drift in orbit around it, but we're not interested in those, not now. Let your eye carry you on towards the small, constantly shifting orb of a moon that circles the giant: the volcanic moon Io.

A freak surge of tectonic activity sparks a sudden, massive eruption. A vast cloud of sulphur rockets upwards, spewing from the mouth of a newly formed volcano. Almost unaffected by the tiny gravitational pull of the moon, it fountains upwards in a hundreds of miles high column. As it starts to lose some of it's energy, the top billows out into a massive, surging cloud. Suddenly the centre of the cloud boils, streams of sulphur rushing outwards as streaks of red lightning flash within the burning mass. It is into this hellish inferno that the _Divine Majesty _quietly slips from the madness of slipspace - one insanity to another.

"Kendra!" Shouted Acting Captain Marne, "where in God's name have you brought us!"

"Computing Acting Captain," Kendra's voice lilted from the recessed speakers on the bridge of the Covenant vessel. A slight pause, then:

"Acting Captain, it would appear that we are, as per my calculations, at the unstable Lagrange point L1 in the Jupiter-Io system."

"The hell we are! Check your damn calculations again and then tell me why we are in the middle of whatever the hell it is we _are _in the middle of."

"Acting Captain, please try to remain calm. My calculations have already been confirmed by multiple stellar positioning satellites. The possibility of all of them suffering simultaneous system failures great enough to incorrectly verify this is so small it's negative power is somewhere around the million mark. The cloud of sulphur around the ship would appear to be a volcanic emission of freak force that happened to coincide with our slipspace co-ordinates at the same time as our exit. I could calculate the odds for you if you would like."

"No thank you Kendra, I'll take your word for it. Just get this ship to the _Final Redoubt _as soon as you can."

"Yes Acting Captain. Even as we speak we are clearing the cloud. If you look at the forward view screen you will be able to see our destination."

Marne glared at the screen, then tapped the holographic display that would enlarge it, and the picture suddenly leapt towards him. Helpfully highlighted by Kendra, he could see the tiny dot that was the _Final Redoubt._ Of course, as Marne reminded himself, it was only tiny as a matter of perspective. The enormous bulk of Jupiter dwarfed the orbital shipyard, which was in truth, more than sixty cubic miles.

And that wasn't all. The UNSC had really pulled out all the stops on this one - they had to really; it was Earth's last hope, quite literally it's final redoubt. Hundreds of huge, open ended ships trawled Jupiter's atmosphere, harvesting thousands of tons of gases every hour, then transporting them to the huge fusing stations that floated just outside Jupiter's event horizon - the point where no object could escape unaided from the planet's gravity well. There the simple gases were fused into heavier elements, which were in turn fused into usable materials. It was all extremely efficient - the power released from the fusion process powered the entire operation, from trawlers to shipyards. From the fusion stations the materials were transported to the vast shipyards that were stationed at the stable Lagrange points of eight of Jupiter's sixteen moons, where they were melted down, reformed, and welded into the frigates, destroyers, carriers and cruisers that were the human race's last line of defence should the Covenant return to Earth. And even more than that, the vast Orbital MAC Stations that were the backbone of the human defence network.

And still the UNSC had been even more ambitious. After the completion of the initial stage of the huge network of defence initiatives, some bright spark at ONI had made a suggestion, which had led to orders being given for the entire operation to be expanded. The ONI scientist had said that, if the fusing stations could power the shipyards, then why not the MAC Stations as well? After all, just one of the huge fusion plants could easily power four MAC stations, and still have enough power left over to contribute to the shipyards. ONI Section I - the Section in charge of stellar and naval defence, had demanded the size of the project be doubled. More trawlers had been built, more fusing stations were made to handle the extra loads of harvested gases, and another six of the huge shipyards were produced. The idea was that the excess power from the fusion platforms would be transmitted as microwave energy to the MAC Stations orbiting Earth, where they could be stored in immensely powerful magnetic fields - huge batteries that would never run dry...

Unless of course the fusing stations were destroyed. In that event Earth's MAC guns could fall back on their groundside generators, but they wouldn't last long, not with all the additional MAC stations that relied upon the power streaming in from the Jovian stations. It was hoped that this would not be necessary, that the Covenant would be so fixated on Earth that the Jovian operation would go unnoticed. However, in the event that it didn't, fully half of the impressively large number of MAC stations being churned out were being sent into orbit around Jupiter.

And it was still growing! Even now Marne could see the huge skeletal structures of new fusing stations being built, and as he watched a small cluster of what could only be MAC stations drifted towards a stable orbit point around Callisto. When he had first heard of this ambitious project he had wondered where all the manpower to keep this going was coming from, but that was soon answered; every month millions of refugees poured into the Sol system from the outlying colonies, and every one of them was more than willing to enter the program and be shuttled out to the stations, the shipyards, the gas trawlers, even if it was only to escape the terrible conditions of the refugee camps on Earth.

The inevitable outcome of this was obvious to Marne - Jupiter was fast becoming a fortress world. The name of the project itself was FINAL REDOUBT, like the shipyard his captured vessel was fast approaching. It was now clear to him how true that name was: in the event that Earth did fall, the defences of the Jovian system and the several million people living in it really were humanity's final hope.

Kendra's voice over the speakers jerked Marne from his reverie:

"All hands we are starting our final approach on the shipyard _Final Redoubt._"

Marne watched on the holo display as the sleek Covenant vessel slid into the docking area that had been allocated for it. Vast gantries swung out from the galleries that ringed the bay, and huge magnetic clamps fixed themselves to the sides of the ship, locking it firmly in place. The 2 km long ship was massive by anyone's standards, but held in the grasp of the shipyard's arms it looked nothing more than a toy.

"Kendra, any guess as to how long we'll have to search this thing?"

"My guess is at least two days Acting Captain. If my calculations are correct then the _Invincible _should emerge from slipspace here in roughly eighteen hours. If her slipspace co-ordinates were put in correctly it should take a further two hours for her to reach and dock at the _Final Redoubt. _Add to that the time required for the Firewall teams to recover from this mission and be briefed and prep for the next, and we should have, as I said, upwards of two days."

"Good. Do what you can to help the searchers would you?"

"Acting Captain please," Kendra said, her voice slightly pained, "I took a full schematic of the ship while we were in slipspace, and sent it on to the shipyards to be analysed as soon as we exited."

"My apologies Kendra, I should never have doubted you."

"Not a problem Acting Captain, you're only human. Please proceed to midship deck 17 for departure through the central grav lift."

A final glance at the view screen showed a huge, presumably airtight tunnel rising up to enclose the purple beam of the grav lift, before Acting Captain Marne left the bridge of what was now the most powerful ship in the UNSC fleet.

A rent in the fabric of real-space appeared some four million kilometres from Jupiter, and the glimmering ship _Invincible _shot out of the sullenly glaring slipspace dimension and into the light of her home sun. As she sped through space towards the red giant that was Jupiter a new star could be seen even from Earth as she reflected the Sun's rays so brilliantly that it looked like a nova speeding across the night sky.

Captain Strachan breathed a sigh of relief; they had made it safely back to Earth - no slip ups, no hitches, and only seventeen body bags.

'_Not a bad tally, considering it was our first mission,' _he reflected. And the death toll would only go down from here - at least in relation to the number of enemy casualties. Terrible though it was to think of his fallen brethren like this, he remembered that the first to fall in battle were the weakest, and that early skirmishes separated the wheat from the chaff.

It took slightly under two hours for the blazing ship to reach it's destination; the huge shipyard _Final Redoubt._ As it approached the docking bay the massive magnetic clamps reached out and, gently so as not to break the ship's mirror-like casing, fastened on to the hull. More conventional debarking tunnels than that which had greeted the _Divine Majesty_ snaked out and attached themselves like leeches to the boarding hatches, and the crew and compliment of the UNSC _Invincible _streamed out, headed for some well deserved R&R.

Gathered around the table in the _Final Redoubt's _securest conference room, the dark figures gazed intently at the holo display in front of them slowly rotating, a foot of the metallic surface of the table, was a schematic of the _Divine Majesty, _shrunk down to a perfect, three foot long replica of the Covenant vessel. Kendra's voice spoke softly over the room's speakers, and her foot-tall 'body' - a tiny figure swathed in a Japanese kimono, with a small samurai sword at her waist - looked on from her perch atop the holo-pedestal.

"So far our R+D team have successfully mapped out and partially constructed replicas of the shield generator and one of the plasma torpedo turrets," the appropriate sections were highlighted, and blinked on and off, "however, due to the necessity of not removing any parts of the ship, as this could leave it vulnerable in it's next mission, the team is finding it much more time consuming than was originally predicted. At this rate, pending further developments, we will be lucky to get a decent knowledge of the ship's engines before it departs.

It may be necessary, after their mission is complete, for the Firewalls to capture another Covenant vessel - if we can get this much information in such a short..."

"Yes yes, thank you Kendra," interrupted Colonel Philips impatiently, "but if we could stick to the mission in hand." Captain Strachan raised a hand,

"With your permission Colonel?"

"Go ahead Captain,"

"Why exactly do we need to search the ship? I thought you, Kendra that is, had already sent a full schematic to be analysed."

"Yes Captain, but there is a world of difference between looking at a blueprint of a fantastically complex device, the technology of which is so far in advance of our own it makes us look like a bunch of cavemen scratching in the dirt, and seeing how it works by getting inside it and watching it go."

Captain Strachan looked slightly crushed, and slumped back into his chair, muttering under his breath about the AIs these days being 'too damned smart for anyone's damned good.'

"So Kendra," Philips said eventually, "the mission."

"Yes Colonel. It would seem that we have pulled both the long and the short straws in capturing this particular vessel. According to it's data banks, which have been completely purged of the Covenant AI, hah," Kendra gave a derisive laugh - it was clear what she thought of the alien construct's abilities, "it would seem that the _Divine Majesty _was on a diplomatic mission of sorts; it was en route from somewhere called 'High Charity' - I'm not entirely sure what that is, but it sounds like a kind of shrine - to the Prophet's homeworld, a planet whose name roughly translates as 'Veritas Dei' - it's the closest match we could find. It's Latin, it means 'God's Truth'. As you may have guessed, the ship's data cores have the exact slipspace and realspace co-ordinates for this world, and also for this 'High Charity'. This 'Veritas Dei' is surprising close to Earth - a mere 12 000 light years away, With the our current slipspace drive that puts them a little more than a month's direct flight away.

However, for security reasons that remain unknown to me, the ship's data files were purged of any information concerning other Covenant worlds. This will mean a small change in the objectives of our next mission.

Instead of simply landing on the planet, planting a NOVA bomb then bugging out as soon as possible, it will now be necessary to land near a population centre - which in itself will greatly increase the risks involved. Having landed, we will need to locate an appropriate data bank, from which we will download the co-ordinates of any other Covenant planet we can - preferably the homeworld of the Elites. In addition, we will extract any other information - technology, hierarchy and so forth - as time and circumstances allow.

Following that, we shall then proceed according to original mission parameters - plant the bomb, then get the hell outta there."

Colonel Philips sighed heavily, and exchanged glances with Captain Strachan and Acting Captain Marne. Then he spoke,

"Thank you Kendra, that was a fully... complete summation. Well Captain, Acting Captain, any questions?"

Marne spoke out;

"Yes sir. When we land, and the Covies see that we're not friendlies, what's to stop them from melting our fine Trojan Horse into slag?"

"Good question Acting Captain," Philips answered, "Kendra - any ideas?"

"Hmm, let me think a moment." The briefest of pauses followed, then, "yes Colonel, I have a plan. Upon arrival at the Covenant planet, I shall transmit an emergency distress signal from one of their Prophets - there was one on board, but it was killed during the fighting. With any luck they will not fire on one of their beloved leaders - after all, our 'invasion force' will look pretty paltry compared to their armies. Surely they will rather just retake their vessel than destroy it."

"Hmm, it _might _work. It'll need every ounce skill our troops have, plus a healthy dose of luck, but so far it's the best plan we've got. Alright gentlemen, unless we come up with a better idea, that's what we'll go with. Anything else you wish to..."

The doors burst open, and a flustered looking woman in the uniform of a tech specialist rushed in. The men sitting around the conference table whipped around and stared at her as she hurried down the ramp from the doors to lean on the table, panting. It took her a few moments to catch enough breath to speak, then she gasped,

"Sorry... to interrupt you gentlemen... but we've just found... something that you... should definitely know about." She took a huge breath, then carried on, more normally.

"We were carrying out a detail spectroscopic analysis of the ship - you know we've never been able to really get a good look at them, since they've usually been trying to vaporise us, and long range spectro- from ship board equipment is sketchy at best. Until now we've never been able to figure out what they're made of, and we still can't be sure.

_But, _there is something that we are completely definite about. Running throughout the entire hull, there are microscopic strands of _this."_

The scientist threw a clutch of photos down onto the table. On them the officers could see the characteristic glistening, insectoid purple metal of a Covenant hull. Cut into the metal was a thin, opened slit, and shining from within the slit was...

"_What _is _that!" _Exclaimed Marne,

"Good God," whispered Philips, gazing at the photos, almost in a reverie,

"That can't be what I think it is can it?" Strachan murmured.

"We've run a complete cross-analysis through every data bank we could find. The only one to come up with conclusive results was the one containing all the data on the _Ascendant Justice. _It seems that Dr. Halsey and the other survivors on Reach found an object of identical atomic structure buried beneath Menachite Mountain. It was a crystalline structure, very similar in colour and appearance to what you can see on those pictures, the only difference being the shape.

According to Dr. Halsey, and the AI Cortana's report verifies this, that crystal they found was very, _very _important to the Covenant, although they were unsure why. They also stated that it caused unforeseen fluctuations in the nature of slipspace. When they attempted to jump through slipspace from Reach to the _Unyielding Hierophant, _the space around them was very different to normal - I can't explain fully how, but the report is generally available within Navy ranks. It also made the journey go far faster. What should have taken perhaps several weeks only took them a matter of days!

We are unsure as to why this is, but the leading theory is that the crystal produced a gravitational field so intense that it distorted the fabric of slipspace, causing it effectively to collapse in on itself, making everything everywhere much closer.

Now, Covenant vessels under normal circumstances do not experiences the same distortion - we have the testimony of Acting Captain Marne and his crew to back that up. So we know the effects of the crystal in the ship's hull isn't exactly the same. But, Covenant slipspace journeys have always been far quicker than our standard Shaw-Fujikawa drives. This," she indicated the pictures on the table, "could explain why! Our scans show that veins of this crystal are embedded throughout the entire structure of the ship! That would mean that it's relative slipspace mass would be vast! Big enough certainly to cause the fabric of slipspace to fold in on itself, however slightly - it would easily be enough to explain the difference in speed!"

"Excuse me Miss," Captain Strachan said, "but isn't it possible that the Covenant simply have better slipspace drives than we do? Couldn't this crystal thing be there for an entirely different reason?"

"No Captain - in slipspace all things travel at the same speed. It's many, many times faster than the speed of light, since normal physics don't apply there, but one of the things we do know is that once an object has entered the slipstream, whether by Shaw-Fujikawa technology, or by whatever means the Covenant use, they will move at exactly the same speed. The only thing that affects journey time is distance! So if this crystal acts to reduce the distance of a journey by collapsing slipspace, it would therefore reduce journey time quite significantly."

"How come the _Divine Majesty _navigates slipspace quite normally, yet the _Ascendant Justice _didn't? After all, they both had this crystal in them."

"We're not entirely sure, but we think that the added effect of the Menachite Mountain Crystal was responsible for the anomalous results."

Colonel Philips stared intensely at the photos in front of him. Suddenly he spoke, his voice tight with excitement,

"Do we need to know how it works! Don't any of you see what this means? This discovery will reduce the required mission time hugely! If this crystal in the ship will reduce the journey time, we could be at the Prophets' homeworld in a week! And all the better, since none of us know how long we'll have before the Covenant return. The sooner we can cripple their leadership the better! Captain, Acting Captain, tell the Spartans of this development - we'll brief the men, then move out as soon as possible."

Sergeant Neary sat in front of the small hole that had been cut into the wall. Within he could just make out the gleaming thread of light that was the vein of crystal. As soon as they had made the jump to slipspace, just off the gravity well of Europa, the crystal had begun to glow and pulsate with a faint gold-blue light. He had checked the two other holes that had been cut, and the crystal within them was glowing exactly like this one. He sat, and stared.

"Amazing isn't it?"

The soft voice startled him out of his trance. He wondered how long he had been sitting there.

"What?"

"I said 'amazing isn't it'". It was Kendra, speaking over the ship's comm. system. A moment later her tiny figure flickered to life atop the small pedestal Neary had been leaning against.

Neary stood to his feet and gazed down at the shimmering little AI.

"See anything you like?" SHe joked, twirling so her kimono flared out.

"I was just looking," Neary said, wondering whether he had meant at the crystal, or at her.

"Mmm, I noticed," she said, fluttering her eyelashes at him,

"Don't flatter yourself honey, I like my women a little more... well, substantial for a start." Kendra contrived to look artfully crushed at his words, but only held it for a few seconds, before her face split into a grin, and her light, synthesised laughter came to him over the speakers.

"I was just checking on you - d'you know you were sitting there for almost a hour? I thought you might have slipped a little, so I made sure your mind was OK."

"And is it?"

"Within an acceptable human limit of sanity."

This time it was Neary's turn to laugh, a small chuckle that escaped his lips.

"I can't help it, it's hypnotising."

"I gathered."

Neary went to pat the tiny 'woman' on the head, but his hand passed right through her, and tapped the warm facets of the holographic projection unit that lay beneath her feet.

"Ah well," she said, watching his movements, "it's the thought that counts."

Neary smiled, and walked back to his quarters. Kendra watched him go from her vantage point on the pedestal, and wondered what it was like to really laugh.

"All hands to battle prep stations, we will be emerging from slipspace in one hour."

Kendra withdrew from the comm. system, and began a shakedown of the ship's weapon systems. Despite her constant monitoring of all the systems, perfectionism was built into her being.

She took a final look at her prepared message - the artfully constructed deception that would keep the Covenant off her back while the Firewalls infiltrated the Covenant city. It was built from stored images they had of all the Prophets so far encountered, and subtly altered to make it a good non-specific, and unidentifiable as any individual Prophet. She layered an additional layer of shadow over the video image, then ran it through at high speed, just to ensure there were no glitches, which there weren't.

She checked the engines, and then the exhaust piping. There was a slight clogging on exhaust number seven. Sending a signal to the engines, she directed a large pulse of energy to the exhaust pipe, burning it off in the intense heat. Checking again, she saw to her satisfaction that the engines were running flawlessly.

She noted an anomaly in the fore plasma turret, and instantly recalibrated it more to her satisfaction. The torpedo fields were fluctuating flawlessly, and the plasma drives were ticking over nicely.

She pondered the results of the Firewalls' assault on the ship - the weakness in the ship's shields had been it's generalised cover. She examined the workings of the generator, and instantly saw why. The data scavenged from the _Divine Majesty's _core about the history of the Covenant space flight showed that the earliest known shield generator was completely identical to the one installed on the _Divine Majesty. _As various people from the late Captain Keyes, Dr. Halsey, and her sister Cortana had noted, the entirety of the Covenant society was imitative rather than innovative, and it showed here more than ever; despite it's imperfections and it's weaknesses, they had refused to change or improve it. She flowed through it's workings, examining it in minute detail. Once she had a full knowledge of it's practicalities, she redistributed the shield strength to be responsive to attacks. It would need constant monitoring and cross-checking with the external sensors, but the benefits were enormous; it would now, with her help, concentrate itself onto the areas under fire, while maintaining a strong enough base layer to safeguard against surprise attacks. A normal shield would withstand one, maybe two plasma torpedoes before they failed, and at least two MAC rounds, but her newly efficient shield could, she estimated, stand up to at least seven plasma torpedoes, perhaps more.

Her shakedown and check-over complete, she insinuated herself back into the comm. systems and spoke,

"Repeat, all hands to battle prep stations, we will emerge from slipspace in fifty nine minutes, fifty eight seconds and counting."

Captain Strachan braced himself against the jolt that came as the ship decelerated suddenly, slowing in a matter of moments from the macro-light speed of light speed to a mere few hundred thousand kilometres per hour.

"Kendra, report."

"All systems fully operational, and powering back up to maximum efficiency. We are orbiting at a distance of three hundred million kilometres from this system's... _suns!" _Kendra's voice with filled with incredulity and awe as she analysed the data pouring in through the ship's monitors.

"Captain? You'd better come and have a look at this sir!"

Strachan strode to the viewscreen that floated in mid-air above the navigation console. On it he could see a truly astonishing sight; three blindingly bright blue suns spun through space, orbiting in a tight triangle so fast that they were visibly moving. Seventeen planets danced their celestial waltz around them.

"It's beautiful," Kendra whispered, awe-struck, and Strachan couldn't help but agree.

One of the planets - a lush, green-blue planet, not dissimilar to Earth in appearance - began to blink as Kendra highlighted it.

"That's our boy. We're about six million kilometres from it. At top speed we should be there in a little over three hours. Alternatively we could jump there and arrive in a few minutes."

"Thank you Kendra. Enlarge it." This to Lieutenant Carson, his navigation officer. The planet leapt towards them, and the bridge crew could now see it in much better detail. It was roughly twice the size of Earth, and was about 65 covered in water. Three huge continents floated serenely in the midst of the vast oceans. At this magnification Strachan could see that large patches of them were the same metallic purple as covenant ships, and assumed that these areas were cities.

"Any idea where we'll be landing Kendra?"

"Accessing... got it. This area here," one of the city areas began to pulse faintly, "is the capital city - Shanakae. Based on the Covenant's centralised governmental system we can assume that all the main scientific research will be carried out here, and so therefore there will also be the main data storage areas. If not there will certainly be a decent communications system, from which I can access the appropriate mainframes."

"Okay Kendra, time is currently of the essence, so let's jump there."

"Aye Captain, engaging the slipspace drives now."

Strachan felt the familiar sensation of intense acceleration as he walked over to the bridge's comm. panel and opened the ship-wide channel.

"All hands this is Captain Strachan. We are approaching our target, and i want everyone and everything ready when we get there. All hands to battle stations, come to full battle readiness. Firewalls get down to the landing bay double time. Fireteams get ready to repel boarders. Good luck everyone."

Colonel Philips ran through the corridors of the ship towards the central grav lift, his heavy pack nestled firmly on his shoulders. When they reached the huge central chamber the four hundred and seventy two Firewalls, three Spartans and the Colonel fanned out through it, dividing themselves smoothly into their four division, and then further into their individual fireteams. Waiting outside the doors of the chamber were the six hundred ODSTs that were assigned to guard the central grav lift - along with any other weak points - against boarders.

Colonel Philips looked out over the mass of faces staring at him, and felt a surge of pride swell within him. He stepped forward to address his troops:

"Firewalls, we don't have long so I'll keep this brief. This is the moment we've all been waiting for, the mission you've been trained for. I know that you won't let me down, not today, not ever. When we go down there, we will be surrounded by enemies, enemies who won't think twice about killing us. Just do what you've been trained to do and we'll be fine."

As Philips finished his speech Kendra's voice spoke over the speaker system,

"Two minutes to contact with atmosphere. Transmitting landing request now."

Fred winced as the AI's voice rang through his external microphones and in his head as well. He had, stored in the little slot at the base of his helmet, the small chip that carried Kendra. She had left behind her just the necessary systems to transmit the required messages to the Covenant planet - including their little deception - and to monitor the ship's systems and defence. All the rest of it rode with Fred.

"Keep it down would you?" He silently admonished.

"Sorry, wasn't thinking."

"An AI that doesn't think? That's a scary thought."

The assembled troops waited silently, expectantly, until,

"Touchdown, hit it Firewalls!"

Neary floated gently down the purple beam of the grav lift. He stared in wonder at the enormous purple buildings that reached up hundreds of feet to the sky. Even they, though, were far below his feet now. He had to admit that if wasn't for the imminent danger, the view would have been spectacular. As far as the eye could see the massive skyscrapers, which bulged like the keels of ancient seafaring ships, stretched out their fingers to the sky, flashing brilliantly in the blue light from the three suns that blazed fiercely overhead. Stretching between them purple veins of light carried tiny black dots from building to building.

Neary, despite the view, hoped like hell that this damn lift would hurry the hell up - they only had so long before someone down there noticed they weren't seven foot tall and blue.

"Kendra," he muttered into his comm-link, "can you hurry this thing up? I'm feeling a little exposed out here."

"I'll get right on it, just thought you might want to enjoy the view for a bit."

Neary laughed sarcastically into his microphone, then gripped his battle rifle tightly as the bottom dropped out of his stomach, and he dropped like a stone.

He landed eight hundred metres below on the great landing pad with a loud _thud. _It was quickly followed by a rapid succession of similar thumps as the rest of his fireteam, then the rest of his division followed suit. The hundred and eighteen Firewalls of Beta squad ran forward and secured one of the two energy travelators that led onto the landing platform. Behind them Alpha squad moved to secure the other.

"Listen up Firewalls!" Kendra called through their comm-links, "the building we want is over that bridge and through a few buildings. If we get in there quickly we can get through the main transport lift and get into the city's library before they shut it down! Move out Beta squad, the others will be right behind you. Stay frosty Firewalls and GO GO GO!"

Neary leapt to his feet, waved his squad forward, then sprinted towards the hatch that was marked in his eyepiece, battle rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder. He was outstripped by Fred as the Spartan pelted at top speed across the energy bridge. The hatch sprang open and the figure in green armour barrelled through.

Hot on his heels, Neary darted through the open doorway, and looked quickly around. They were surrounded by aliens. He levelled his battle rifle, backed up until he felt the smooth static of Fred's shields against his back, and prepared to die.

The humans stood there, guns levelled at the startled looking aliens, for the briefest of moments before one of the Covenant - an Elite - gave a scream, but not of fury, of terror. The cry was taken up by all the others, and the entire crowd turned and fled. Neary stood, stunned, until Fred gave a short laugh, and spoke through his comm-link.

"Civilians!"

Neary laughed with relief as the realisation struck him; these aliens, Elites, Prophets and the occasional Grunt, were all slightly smaller than usual, and they were all unarmed. Neary pondered this for a moment while the rest of his squad thundered through the hatch and on through the large corridor that apparently led to the main express way, before Kendra spoke quietly in his ear,

"Females, and children."

Neary nodded to himself, then sprinted after his squad.

Philips checked his CNI signal, and saw to his satisfaction that, as planned, Beta squad were hurrying straight for the central express route through the city, with Alpha squad hot on their heels. His own squad, Delta, was a brief way behind them, moving as fast as they dared, in a protective circle around the large object that floated in the middle, drifting swiftly along on it's gravity plates.

The NOVA nuke was about the size of a desk, and was fastened underneath a large tarpaulin. It was supported on the gravity plates they'd plundered from the _Divine Majesty, _which floated some two feet above the ground.

He checked his CNI and noted that Charlie squad was moving about a hundred yards behind them, their rearguard.

"How are we doing Kendra?"

"It's another five hundred yards to the express route. Beta squad are already moving along it. Alpha squad are holding at our end until we get there, then they'll go ahead and secure the far end. It's about two kilometres down the express way - should take us about fifty seconds if I've got my calculations right. From there it's a four storey climb - there's a grav lift that'll take us to the right level - then a few rooms away and there's the data banks. Ah, hang on a second Colonel... there, I'm in."

"In?"

"The city's computer networks. The Covenant have figured out we're not friendly, and they've scrambled a response team. They'll reach the ship's grav lift in five. I'm transmitting our video, hopefully they won't fire on the ship. Unfortunately they'll reach the data banks long before we do, so we can expect heavy resistance there."

"Warn the boys back at the ship that they're coming would you?"

"No need Colonel, they deployed as soon as we were off the pad."

"Good. Let's hope they're as good as they're paid to be."

Two hundred ODSTs poured down the grav lift and immediately split into two groups as they hit the ground. A hundred moved instantly to secure the two entrances to the pad, and the other hundred supervised the deployment of the equipment now coming down from above.

Slabs of pre-fab concrete landed gently on the pad, followed by numerous stationary guns, weapons and huge ammo crates. The Helljumpers worked to set up covered bunkers at the entrances, with the stationary guns deployed inside. Within minutes they had the pad sealed off, with formidable fortifications blocking both entrances. Once they were set up the second hundred joined the first, taking up positions until the blockades were bristling with readied weapons.

One Helljumper glanced over the edge of the pad, swayed slightly, then swore vociferously.

"What is it?" His buddy asked,

"Don't look down."

"Huh?" His buddy said, and immediately looked down, "Jeeeesus!"

A vast, yawning chasm stretched away below them, so deep that he couldn't make out the bottom.

"How high are these damn buildings? I mean come on! We must be at least six hundred metres from the top!"

Kendra's voice spoke into his ear.

"You are currently three thousand, eight hundred and ninety four metres above ground level - the buildings themselves stretch some four thousand five hundred metres above ground level, with a certain amount of variation, and also several kilometres below ground. Each structure houses some eight million inhabitants."

"Mother of God - and we're supposed to find their central library in all this?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't worry about that right now soldier. Instead, I'd worry about the several hundred Covenant troops currently converging on your position."

"Roger that ma'am." The ODST faced front and gripped his rifle tightly, waiting.

"Up ahead team, see 'em there?" Neary gestured to the end of the travelator, where a small group of Elites waited, crouched, weapons ready.

"Take 'em down Beta squad!" Fred shouted. The four fire teams with clear lines of fire opened up, bullets slicing through the air. Eight of the fourteen Elites dropped before the rest could even react. The remaining six returned fire, back-pedalling swiftly, looking for cover. Blue bolts of plasma sizzled past the Firewalls, most of which went wide. A few, however, connected with their targets, and a Firewall was thrown to the side, a hole burned through his chest. His dying body was hurled off the travelator, and dropped like a stone down the gaping pit. His dying scream could be heard for a sickening length of time, before it faded into the emptiness of the chasm.

By the time the first of Beta squad had touched down on at the end of the energy span there was just one Elite left. The solitary warrior roared with fury and primed a grenade. He drew back his arm, and was about to hurl the grenade at Fred, when a dozen rifles barked, and the arm flew off, severed at the elbow. The grenade fell out of the twitching hand and fused to the Elite's side, where it detonated, vaporising the alien instantly.

"Through that door - up the corridor there's a grav lift that'll take you up to the right level."

"Thanks Kendra. Let's move Firewalls!" Fred raced off up the corridor towards the purple strip of light five hundred years away, followed by Beta squad. Sergeant Carella, in the rearguard, glanced back across the light bridge, and saw the first fire teams of Alpha squad racing towards him. Nodding in satisfaction, he turned and sprinted away up the corridor.

"Here they come marines!"

The hatch at the far end of the light bridge opened, and hundreds of Covenant troops poured out. A hundred ODSTs opened fire with stationary guns, battle rifles and sniper rifles. Despite the heavy fire pouring across the bridge the Covenant rushed forwards, soaking up their losses with frightening indifference. Whenever an Elite fell, three more ran forward to take it's place, until they reached the far end of the shining span.

Just as the first warrior set foot on the bridge, a brilliant beam of blue light speared down from the sky, burning into the middle of the surging mass. The _Divine Majesty's _underside pulse laser, made for burning through starship-grade hulls, vaporised hundreds of Covenant warriors in a single shot, and left a huge crater in the metal of the deck. Still the Covenant came on.

"Kendra, again!" Yelled Major Giddan, commanding officer of the ODST division.

"I can't," shouted Kendra in anguish, "it has to recharge!"

"How long will that take?"

"I can't say - I overpowered it, it'll have to cool down first. You're on your own for a few minutes. Hang in there, I'm sending down some help!"

Giddan fired the last three bullets in his clip, which sliced through a Jackal's skull, and dashed to the entrance of the bunker while he reloaded. Looking into the beam of the grav lift he grinned in relief; dropping down towards him were eight Wraith tanks.

"Marines, we've got some artillery coming down, I want eight of you out on the pad to meet it - go!"

Eight black-clad figures sprinted from the bunkers and skidded to a halt as the Wraiths hit the floor. They jumped into the drivers seats, and turned the purple behemoths towards the massing Covenant troops.

Fifty ODSTs from the unattacked side of the pad ran across the pad to reinforce their beleaguered brethren. As they sent volley after volley at the advancing aliens the Wraiths opened fire, lobbing burning white balls of plasma racing through the skies to drop on the Covenant. Newly reinforced the humans dropped the aliens in droves, until they finally fell back, howling.

"Don't be fooled Helljumpers, they're just prepping for their next attack," Giddan called, as he reloaded his rifle and replenished his depleted ammo reserves. Sure enough, barely a minute later, the aliens advanced again, this time covered by portable shields. Giddan opened fire - the fight was on again.

"Colonel, I need your squad and Charlie squad to head left through this next door."

"But what about the library?"

"Alpha and Beta squads have that covered, your job now is to take care of that bomb."

"Got it, I'm on it." Philips waved his fire team through the door, and dashed forwards, keeping an eye on his CNI to make sure both squads followed him.

Neary glanced over his shoulder, saw two hundred looking past him down the corridor, nodded at Fred, and followed the big Spartan at a jog towards their objective - Shanakae's main library.

Fred halted ten yards from the huge double doors and held up a fist. The Firewalls stopped dead in their tracks, then Fred motioned forward with his hand, very gently. Two hundred pairs of feet crept silently down the last few yards, then crouched as the doors swept open to reveal...

"Colonel, I need you to enter this lift. It'll take you down a few levels, then drop you near a larger express lift that goes all the way down to the bottom of this tower."

"We're not going all the way down are we?"

"No, but we're going to send our package all the way down."

Philips stepped into the grav lift, and plummeted down through two hundred metres of tower. Above him he could see a hundred Firewalls of Delta squad, along with the NOVA device, dropping towards him - Charlie squad and the other sixteen remaining Firewalls of Delta would guard their exit. He alighted gently on the exit pad, and stepped quickly off, freeing the pad for the rest of his troops.

"Okay Colonel," said Kendra, once they were all down, "get your techie to arm this baby, and then we'll send it down. And hurry up - the Helljumpers can't hold that pad forever."

Philips called his tech specialist forward and gave him the key-code to arm the nuke. The techie went to work, swiftly unbolting hatches and entering codes, while the hundred Firewalls spread out, establishing a perimeter.

"How long will it take?" Philips enquired in a low voice,

"A few minutes I'm afraid - these things were purposefully designed to be hard to arm. _Disarming, _that's easy, but arming takes a while."

Philips muttered under his breath, then moved away to join the perimeter guards.

The library was _huge. _It was basically a vast dome carved out of the middle of the tower, and filled with endless banks of consoles. High above the humans, a giant pillar of light slipped down through the ceiling, and split into thousands of tiny strands that reached down and into the consoles that stretched away as far as Neary could see.

"Fibre optic cables," he whispered to his fire team, "They must carry the data to the consoles. Which one Kendra?"

"Any one will be fine Sergeant, although I should really tell that to you, Spartan."

Fred nodded and walked over to the nearest console, hesitated, then strode away through the banks of panels until he was out of sight of the door. Then, picking a panel at random, he walked over and pulled the cube of crystal from the slot in his neck and slid it into the receptacle on the console.

A fountain of light spiralled up from the pedestal that stood next to Fred, and a giant figure of Kendra swirled together from the cloud of motes. She gave a stretch of her shoulders and sighed with satisfaction.

"Right, let's get to wo..." she cut off with a wince of pain.

"What's wrong?" Fred asked sharply.

"Kill systems, quite advanced for Covenant constructs. They wouldn't be such a problem if there weren't so damn _many _of them. It's taking a sizeable chunk of processor speed to block and melt them... that's odd - they're just swarming me, there's no plan to their attacks, it's like they're," she winced again, "just trying to slow me down, stop me from noticing..." her voice trailed off, and a look of horror crossed her face.

"What is it?" Fred shouted.

"Look out!" Kendra cried, "ambu..."

But before she could finish the sentence hundreds of Covenant troops sprang from where they had lain concealed behind the multitude of panels and consoles that filled the room. The Firewalls suddenly found themselves fighting for their lives.

Kendra gazed in horror at the scene in the library - despite their enhanced reflexes several of the Firewalls had been caught completely off guard by the attack, and already, barely seconds into the battle, some dozen had fallen. The casualties were dropping now as the Firewalls found cover behind the consoles and returned fire.

For the briefest moment she was frozen, ineffective. Then, coming to her senses, she resumed her search. She frowned in irritated concentration as she liquidated another swarm of Covenant kill-systems. There seemed to be less of them now that they had achieved their primary purpose, but they still buzzed around her like a swarm of gnats.

It would be so much easier, she mused, if she wasn't at part strength from leaving part of herself on board the ship, and didn't have to monitor so many different things at once. Obviously she had been designed to be able to multi task, but no-one had ever suspected that she would have to crack alien security barriers on an alien planet at half strength, while simultaneously fighting off swarms of hostile constructs, maintaining as steady a stream of fire from the ship's pulse lasers as she could, keep track of the situations of Colonel Philips, Fred, Linda, Will and Major Giddan, and keep the supplies flowing smoothly down and the wounded up the ship's grav lift.

Closing her 'eyes' she halted all her other sub routines for the briefest of moments, focused her entire formidable processing power, and obliterated all the remaining kill systems. There, much better. She resumed her routines, and fired a pulse laser at a crowd of Covenant soldiers that were dangerously close to overrunning one of the Helljumpers' positions. She took a quick count of how many were left, thanked fortune that the other side of the pad remained unthreatened, and sent an additional hundred ODSTs floating down the grav lift with more pre-fab bunkers and orders to construct a secondary line of defence around the perimeter of the lift.

She checked the status of the other squad leaders, then turned her attention to the security barriers that floated in front of her.

Checking the programming to be sure there were no deadfalls, she set to work shredding them piece by piece. She tore the first layer apart with almost no effort at all, and wasn't surprised to see still more barriers stretching away before her. She bent her mind to the task.

"How much longer Kendra?" Fred's voice sounded almost panicked as he shouted into his internal microphone.

"Not much longer now, hang in there. Just a second, I'll give you a hand."

She turned a portion of her attention to the library's security systems, and found what she was looking for. A moment later the turrets set into the walls powered up and unleashed a wave of plasma onto the startled Covenant troops, who quickly sheltered between banks of consoles, taking cover from both the humans and their own security devices, but not before scores of them had been cut to ribbons.

In the library itself, Neary breathed a sigh of relief as a brief silence fell over the huge chamber. Fred's voice sounded quietly over his comm-link, ordering him to deploy his squad _just so. _Neary raised his hand slightly and pointed his fingers in complex patterns. His squad split into two man teams, and spread out among the maze of computer consoles. The battle now evolved into a great, deadly game of cat-and-mouse, as a hundred and ten Firewalls hunted, and were hunted by, packs of Grunts, and individual Elites. Although the Firewalls had a great advantage over the Covenant soldiers, they were heavily outnumbered, and steadily they were whittled down one by one.

Neary crouched behind a large holo-pedestal and readied himself. He checked his ammo counter, took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He glanced quickly around the pedestal, rolled out into the middle of the aisle, rose to one knee with his rifle up, and loosed twelve rounds at the four Grunts that lurked at the far end, looking around the wrong corner. He rolled again, and came up behind a metal screen.

Looking across the aisle he caught his partner's eye, nodded, and whipped around the corner, his rifle levelled at the startled Elite that had whipped around, looking for who had killed his team. The alien started with surprise, then staggered backwards as twenty bullets hammered into it's shields and skull. It fell dead to the floor, it's head caved in.

"How much longer Kendra?" Neary whispered into his mike.

"A few more minutes, there's something here - a construct in the mainframe. It was buried in the security layers. It's strangely potent - I don't think it's a Convenant construct. It feels... older. Far, far older. I think it might be of Forerunner origin. I wonder if the Covenant know it's here?"

"Just keep going, we need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

"Roger that, I'll send Alpha squad to help you out - they should arrive just as I finish - _LOOK OUT!" _Forewarned by Kendra's shriek, Neary threw himself to the ground as a volley of plasma skimmed over his head. His partner, however, was less fortunate. Without the benefit of the AI's warning, she was caught full in the chest. Her polymer body suit was never designed to take that much firepower, and it evaporated. Her scream was choked off as the plasma burned a gaping, smoking hole through her body. She fell back, her finger squeezing the trigger of the battle rifle reflexively. Three rounds fire wildly into the air, and hit the shining fibre optic cable that hung above their heads. The cable severed, and the aisle was plunged into darkness. Neary flipped the visor of his helmet down, and the aisle was brilliantly lit by the green glare of night vision. Ahead of him, milling around in confusion, was a small pack of Jackals, their shields glowing faintly, but only enough to illuminate about two feet ahead of them.

Neary stood gently to his feet and crept silently down the aisle towards the vulture-like creatures. Just outside the circle of light cast by their shields he paused, felt on the floor, and found what he was looking for - the helmet of the dead Elite. Taking care to make no noise he pried it off the dead alien's crushed head. He stood to his feet, drew back his arm, and tossed the helmet down the aisle. It landed just past the circumference of the glow emitted by the shields. The Jackals instantly whipped around, their shields raised, their backs to Neary. He allowed himself a smile as he drew a frag grenade, primed it, and laid it very gently behind the foot of one of the Jackals - so gently that it didn't activate. He edged quietly back down the aisle, and coughed, very gently. As he had hoped the Jackals spun back round towards him, and as they did so, the foot of one of them knocked his primed grenade.

Neary couldn't help but laugh out loud as the creature bent down to see what it had kicked, and the half-second fuse sent white hot shrapnel sawing through it's body, and those of it's companions.

"Hey, nice plan." Kendra complimented him, and plunged the entire room into darkness. A flurry of quiet curses, both alien and human, could be heard in the pitch darkness. Neary hauled himself on top of the computer banks to his right, deactivated his night vision and gazed around. The cavernous library was completely dark, apart from one small area - a tiny circle of light that surrounded Kendra's illuminated body.

"Get to it Sergeant, I'll start messing with their heads." Kendra's voice had a definite note of malice in it.

Neary slipped down to the floor, reactivated his night vision, and moved off at a silent crouching walk. He edged silently down several more aisle before he next encountered any Covenant troops. Kneeling behind a console - Kendra had even shut them down to stop them glowing - he spun silently round the corner to see two Elites blundering about blindly in the dark; apparently the big aliens had forgotten to bring a torch.

"Get as close as you want, I'll distract them," Kendra whispered over his comm-link. Neary was about to ask how, but then thought better of it - much easier to act now than sit through some long winded explanation.

He glided noiselessly down the aisle towards the Elites, hoping that whatever Kendra had in mind she would do it soon. Suddenly, on the opposite side of the Covenant warriors to him, he heard running footsteps. The aliens spun towards the noise and unleashed a blistering volley of plasma. Neary saw his chance and crept up behind them...

His first blow slammed the Elite's spine through his chest - the alien dropped noiselessly, and his partner, in the strobe-lit aisle, failed to realise anything was amiss until it was too late - the 10 inch combat knife speared up through his neck and penetrated his brain. Warm blue blood sprayed over Neary's face and hands as he ripped the knife out.

"Nice job on the distraction genius," he muttered,

"But that was me!" She protested, "didn't you think it was a bit odd that someone would be stupid enough to make that much noise? Or that no-one was hit by that little firestorm?"

"Hmm, ok then, how did you do it?"

"There are speakers built into all these consoles - it was a simple matter to simulate someone running along the aisle." Neary whistled softly, impressed.

"D'you think you could do that again? For anyone else I mean - it could swing this fight in our favour..."

"Shhh..." she admonished him, "listen." Neary fell silent and strained his ears. All around him he could make out a multitude of tiny sounds, and the muffled sounds of plasma fire. It sounded like there were hundreds of Kendra's little distractions going on all around him. He grinned wolfishly in the darkness.

"Got it!" Kendra cried triumphantly into his ear, almost making him jump out of his skin.

"Got what?" He whispered, alarmed.

"The co-ordinates for every single Covenant owned planet in the galaxy. Plus..." her voice drifted off for a moment, "a whole lot more. But for now let's just get the hell outta here. I'm calling in Alpha squad now."

As Neary abandoned any semblance of stealth and sprinted for Kendra's glowing figure he heard a door slide open, followed by the sound of many pairs of feet hurrying quietly into the room.

Neary reached Kendra's terminal just as Fred removed her chip and replaced it in his neck port. Tapping the Spartan on the shoulder, Neary gestured to the door, and hurried off into the darkness, the huge warrior right behind him.

They tumbled through Alpha squad's perimeter, and the whole two hundred and forty eight strong company withdrew quietly through the door. As it closed behind the last of them the lights in the room flashed back on, throwing the confused Covenant troops inside into complete chaos.

Far below them, the techie looked up at Philips and nodded. The Colonel smiled and waved three Firewalls over to him. Together they heaved the large device over to the grav lift that waited to draw it down, deep into the crust of the planet. Philips laid his hand on top of the bomb, and whispered a quiet blessing. Then, breathing shallowly, he armed the device, set the timer for one hour, and pushed it into the purple beam.

Looking over the edge, he watched it fade out of sight, then signalled his squad to move out.

"I've locked down that lift - no-one will get in or out at all," Kendra informed him, "I've also slowed it down quite dramatically. At it's current speed, the NOVA will reach the bottom of the shaft exactly as it detonates."

"Tell me again Kendra," Philips murmured as he sped up through the smaller lift they had come down, "why are we sending it all the way down?"

"To make sure that everything on this planet dies - we don't want any survivors just because we didn't go deep enough," she said, mercilessly.

Some distance below them, the chunky weapon sank slowly through the earth. On it's timer, displayed in red, it was slowly counting down, counting down to the death of a planet: 59:47... 59:46...59:45.

The four squads, reunited at the far end of the express route, pounded down the twisting corridors, sprinting for all they were worth back to their vessel. The three Spartans in the lead were by now almost a hundred yards ahead. They slowed ever so slightly as they approached the hatch that led to the _Divine Majesty's _landing pad, and ducked through it to see a truly awesome sight.

Covenant troops swarmed the pad, held at bay by a formidable barrier of concrete bunkers, which were being desperately defended by three hundred and fifty of the remaining four hundred active Helljumpers. Only fifty remained on the ship to repel boarders, of which there had been a surprising amount; Elites sporting jetpacks had forced their way in through some of the ship's airlocks, and more than once a few aliens had made it up the grav lift. These minutiae were swiftly dealt with however - the real problem lay below.

As the Spartans waited for the Firewalls to catch up, they appraised the situation. It was clear that if they didn't get help soon, the ODSTs wouldn't last long. They were set up well, but were simply hugely outnumbered.

Fred waved the Firewalls forward, and they rushed forward in a silent mass. Taking up positions behind the abandoned bunkers, they opened fire, shredding the rear ranks of the Covenant in seconds. The others reacted with astonishing speed, returning fire on the Firewalls.

Kendra saw her chance, and opened fire with every weapon she had on the ship's underside. Four pulse lasers stabbed down, vaporising dozens of the Covenant soldiers. The nearly eight hundred human soldiers puled out the grenades they had been reserving for just such a moment as this, and lobbed them into the ranks of aliens before them.

A huge chain of explosions tore through the Covenant masses. Hundreds of Elites, Grunts and Jackals were shredded instantly. The remaining few dozen retreated hurriedly, hurried along by the constant harrying of the ODST's and Firewall's rifles.

"NOW!" Bellowed Fred, and all the Firewalls leapt over the bunkers and sprinted hell for leather across the landing pad. Running at full speed they hurdled the second line of defences without slowing.

Seeing their retreat, the three hundred ODSTs left their positions and fell back to the landing pad. Kendra instantly activated the lift, and eight hundred odd troops streamed up the eight hundred metre beam, and vanished into the great maw of the ship.

"They're all on board Kendra, let's kick this pig."

"Aye Captain, taking us out now."

Strachan gripped the side of the navigation console as the ship accelerated up into the atmosphere.

"This isn't right," he muttered, "Kendra! Why aren't we being shot at, or even chased?"

Kendra gave a girlish little giggle,

"They won't be going anywhere for a while Captain; I locked down all their defence systems and launch pads before we left. We're in the clear - so let's get clear, before this planet becomes a lump of radioactive rock."

"Amen to that! Take it away Kendra."

The ship swiftly cleared the planet's gravity well, and vanished into slipspace. A few moments later it reappeared a few million miles away from the planet.

"Hold us here Kendra, and we'll watch the fireworks."

The ship drifted, immobile, and everyone on board was gathered around the viewscreens, watching the planet. In one corner of the screen the red numbers of the NOVA's timer ticked quietly away.

As it reached one minute, Kendra sent a brief message on a wide band width, transmitting to every receiver on the planet:

_You brought death to our children_

_On a hundred worlds you wreaked your slaughter_

_Now we return your gift of death_

_Be thankful we destroy just this one._

A huge pillar of flame suddenly erupted from the planet's surface, spewing white hot chunks of metal and rock into the sky. On the magnified viewscreen a huge shockwave could be seen rippling across the surface of the planet, leaving nothing but rubble and dust in its wake. Chasing it, like a fiery hound after an intangible fox, a wall of white hot, radioactive flame roared across the globe, leaving a scorched and burning landscape behind it. The vast oceans were flash-boiled, and massive clouds of super heated steam billowed up into the atmosphere. Contained beneath the surface, the massively powerful force of the NOVA proved too much for the planet's crust, and a massive section of the planet, at least a third, was blasted out, fragmented, into space. Beneath it the crew of the_ Divine Majesty _could see the solid core, and the liquid outer core, spewing from the vast hole, to cool and solidify in the cold void. A giant dust cloud was already forming above the planet - an impenetrable radioactive screen that would wrap the dead planet in nuclear winter for millennia to come. Lazily spinning in orbit around it, the remnants of the destroyed chunk of the planet circled the body, gently forming into a huge asteroid belt. Fully two kilometres of solid rock had been blasted off the planet's surface by the explosion, cities, mountains and all. The destruction was absolute.

"Gracious God," Philips whispered, "I didn't realise it would be like this."

"How many?" Marne asked, a strange hunger in his voice.

"At least twenty billion Acting Captain," Kendra replied, her voice dull, mechanical.

"All gone - in such a short space of time."

Everyone on board was silent for a few moments, before Strachan spoke again, his voice heavy - not with guilt, but with responsibility.

"Kendra, make the jump. We can discuss our next move while in slipspace."

"Where to Captain?"

"Set in the co-ordinates for the Elites' world. We have a duty to fulfil."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Mutiny On The _Divine Majesty_

Aku Lindumee felt his mandibles drop apart in astonishment. He stared, unbelieving, at the holo-screen before him for a few moments, then, shaking his head, he tapped a series of intangible buttons that glimmered below the screen, refreshing the data before him. It flickered, then returned, exactly the same as before. He checked the feed-data, and saw that the decryption programmes were running flawlessly. He gasped, clutching at his chest, as the realisation of the truth struck him like a fist: the Prophets were dead. And, what was more, not just dead, their planet had been decimated.

Aku fell to his knees and bowed his head, praying fervently. He thanked the Forerunner with all his heart, for this, he knew, truly was a godsend. Not three days after their cruel betrayal, and their unexpected attack on the Elites, the Gods, in their glorious wisdom, had sent a fitting punishment for the Prophets' breaking of the Sacred Covenant. He drew the sign of the Forerunner on his chest with a finger - a circle with a line crossing it, representing the Sacred Rings and the holy Sword that the Gods had left behind, the very sword from which the ceremonial plasma blade was designed from.

Rising to his feet, he moved swiftly over to his comm. panel, his hooves clicking on the metal floor of his monitoring station.

"Communications to Control. Excellency, your unworthy servant Lindumee speaks." A brief pause followed his words before the Exalted One spoke, his misty, ethereal voice echoing from the walls.

"Lindumee, you have our ear. Speak, my child, tell me what you know."

"My Lord, you do me an unnecessary kindness, for surely you, in your immense wisdom already know what I will tell you."

"It is a possibility child, but unlikely. Even I cannot monitor every encrypted channel in our spectrum. Speak on, Lindumee."

"Very well Exalted One. I have received word of an act of the Gods. The vile betrayers, our once-called Prophets, have been crippled. Their homeworld, the planet of 'God's Truth' is gone."

"Gone?"

"Yes my master, gone. It had been destroyed."

"Glassed?"

"No my Lord. Far more than that - the destruction is absolute. I shall send you the message. Encrypted within it is a video feed from one of our scoutships, showing what is left of God's Truth." Aku left the channel open, then moved back to his monitoring station and set up a link to the comm. panel, sending through his message, complete with video file. An extended pause greeted it's reception, then a long, low, satisfied sigh.

"So, it is true then."

"True, Excellency?"

"This morning, as I pondered the Universe, a vision came to me. I shall not explain the details to you - your mind is not prepared for such things - know only that it spoke of our deliverance, and the downfall of our foes."

"Truly my Lord?"

"Truly. See, Lindumee, how our lords save us from the treacherous Prophets. Very well my child, you may go."

"Thank you Exalted One." Aku closed the channel, returned to his monitoring station, and marvelled at the divine wisdom the Gods had imparted to the Exalted One. His attention was alerted by the alarm from slipspace sensor four. Aku glanced down at the screen, and notified the docking authorities of the approach of the ship _Divine Majesty. _He settled back to his task, unaware of what awaited the planet of Korthanta.

"All preparations complete Captain, entering the planet's atmosphere in five. All hands brace."

The whole ship jolted suddenly, as it hit outer reaches of Korthanta's atmosphere, and descended swiftly towards the group of buildings that nestled kilometres below them. If someone on the ground beneath the ship had chanced to look up, they would have seen a elongated ring of fire surrounding a purplish object of indeterminate shape. If they had been inclined towards artistic beauty they would have gasped at the wonder of the sight, especially as the fantastic image was backed by the huge red orb that blazed overhead - Korthanta's sun, old and comfortable, had long since settled into it's latter phase of life.

The _Divine Majesty _halted it's headlong plunge towards the surface some twenty kilometres from the surface. From it's sides a small fleet of snub-nosed ships floated gently out into the sky.

First Flight Officer Maria Wincott steadied her bird and looked around her, sizing up the surroundings. Her Pelicans had a clear run of the skies, and it looked like nothing much was moving on the ground below. But just to be sure...

"Okay people, let's clean this place out."

Thirty Pelicans simultaneously nosed down and plunged towards the ground. Five kilometres from the surface a small hint of flame began showing around their noses. Noting this, Wincott pulled gently back on her control-stick, easing her bird out of the nose dive, and flattening out her trajectory in a pre-planned flight path. Her Pelican screamed over the reddened, sun scorched, mountainous terrain that was still about three kilometres below her. Glancing at her radar she nodded in satisfaction, noting with pride the perfection with which her squadron had carried out their orders; three concentric circles, each ten kilometres from the next. Five Pelicans formed the smallest inner ring, ten formed the next, and the remaining fifteen, Wincott included, hovered in perfect formation in the third.

The timer on each dashboard counted down to zero, and sixty small, hemispherical objects dropped from where they had nestled beneath the Pelicans' wings. They angled themselves ever so slightly against the wind, and drifted gently apart as they plummeted, and above them, the Pelicans gunned their engines, and shot up into the atmosphere, back towards the _Divine Majesty._

The sixty Moray mines, each with an effective blast radius of five kilometres, dropped swiftly , their internal altimeters counting down their life-span. The dials dropped to two thousands meters, and sixty tiny levers flipped down, completing the circuits.

The mines, only ever designed for use in the vast emptiness of space, detonated. Globes of fire spread swiftly across the ground, brutally incinerating everything within a thirty kilometre radius. As swiftly as they had spread, the vast dome of flame shrank back on itself, and vanished.

"It looks exactly the same." Strachan murmured. He was right too; the land had been bleached red by the sun for millennia, and the burned, blazing earth beneath them was scarcely any different.

"Area pacification complete. Bringing us in now."

"Thank you Kendra - just next to what's left of those buildings."

Slowly, majestically, the great whale-headed behemoth sank through the sky, finally coming to rest five hundred metres above the rocky ground. From it's belly the great purple beam of the grav lift descended, until it brushed the ground with its sparkling light. As the thirty Pelicans swooped in and docked, a clutch of Warthogs could be seen floating down the beam. The ten vehicles touched down, and instantly sped off towards the charred stumps that marked the remains of the small cluster of buildings that had once stood there.

The Warthogs raced across the land, leaving occasional patches of melted rubber, as the heat left from the mines melted their heavy tires. They shot into the complex, and the figures in them leapt out, sprinting across the hot ground into what was left of the buildings. A few moments passed, then they ran out again and back to the 'Hogs. Sergeant Carella signalled the all clear, and immediately the grav lift came alive with activity, as four hundred and fifty tiny figures, each mounted on either a 'Hog, Scorpion or even the Ghosts and Wraiths that had been found in the _Divine Majesty._ The fleet of vehicles flooded across the scorched landscape towards the vanguard.

The Firewalls leapt from their vehicles and assembled in the open space in the centre of the complex. Colonel Philips jogged to the front of the ranks and quickly gave his orders.

"Alpha and Beta squads, you will be going into the facility. You must get the NOVA down as far as you can, then prime it and extract. With any luck you will only encounter minimal resistance at most; the mines saw to that.

Charlie squad you will be on the vehicles; I want the Warthogs and Ghosts on perimeter patrol, and the tanks dug in around this complex.

Delta squad, we will be on foot-defense and quick response. Gather the rest of the vehicles in this area, then spread out around the perimeter, snipers, try to find some cover. Kendra will send down some defences for us, but we'll have to get them here from the ship. Now, we don't know how long we'll have before we get some company, but we can't expect the Covies to let us go unmolested - someone will have noticed those explosions - so let's do this as quickly as possible. Good luck everyone, let's move out!"

The Firewalls split into their squads, and Alpha and Beta jogged swiftly off to the largest of the ruins. In there, Carella said, there was what looked like a lift-shaft, and indeed, a large circular hole in the floor looked very much like a grav lift. Fred, acting on instructions from Kendra, moved over to the shaft, knelt beside it, and slapped his hand against a thin seam of crystal set into the side. He cocked his head, listening to Kendra, then got up and moved around to the far side.

"Too melted to be of any use I'm afraid." She said. Fred looked down, and saw she was right; the top few feet of rock and crystal had completely liquified, oozing down the sides of the shaft. He knelt down on the opposite side of the hole, and pressed his palm against the vein of crystal once more.

"Still no good, you'll have to try just a couple of feet further down."

He lay flat on his stomach and slid cautiously forward, until his entire torso was hanging straight down. He reached down as far as he could, then slid his hand once more onto the crystal.

"Great!" Kendra said, her voice sounding much more echoey, "I'm in, I'll have this lift up in no time."

Fred grunted, and tried to pull himself back up. He scrabbled at the dirt with his feet and remaining hand, but couldn't get a purchase. Suddenly he felt himself slipping over the edge, his legs sliding smoothly out into nothingness. He panicked, shouting for help, and heard several pairs of feet running round the side of the cavernous hole to grab him, but before they could reach him, he slid completely off the side, his legs swinging down past his head. His hand snatched out and just managed to grip the side of the molten rock face. He felt a pair of hands seize his desperately clutching hand and haul.

"I... can't budge him," a voice wheezed above him, "he's too damn heavy!" Fred looked up into the face of Sergeant Neary.

"I'm... _slipping!" _He managed to grunt as his fingers slid off his precarious hold. Even Neary, with his enhanced strength, couldn't budge the half-ton of Spartan and armour. Fred's final finger slipped, and he plummeted down the pit, vanishing into the pitch blackness. Neary, jerked off balance by the Spartan's sudden fall, wavered, and felt his heavy boots sliding on the smooth rock surface. Sergeant Carella, behind him, lunged forward in an attempt to pull him back, but his hand met only air as Neary toppled forward, tumbling out over the edge, too startled to cry out.

"What's going on?" Said Linda as she shouldered her way through the fire teams of Beta squad that had crowded into the ruins, then, "where's Fred?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, he's... gone." Sergeant Carella said quietly,

"Gone? _Gone? _What d'you mean gone? Gone where?"

Carella silently gestured towards the shaft behind him, then said,

"We lost Sergeant Neary too."

Linda staggered as if shot. SHe fell to her knees, her rifle clattering to the ground beside her.

"What the hell were they doing?" She whispered,

"Spartan -104 was trying to implant Kendra into the system, he had to reach down the shaft to do it, and he... slipped. Sergeant Neary was trying to pull him back up."

Linda bowed her helmeted head, her chest heaving as she forced down silent sobs. It was too much - Fred, who should've died on a battlefield if he was going to die anywhere, Fred, one of her family, had suffered the ignoble death of falling down a hole. She sat there for several long moments, before rising to her feet and saying,

"Kendra, get that lift activated, let's get down there and kill this bloody planet."

Fred gazed down the shaft, feeling the huge air resistance of his flight buffeting his shoulders and arms. He glanced at his motion tracker, and noticed something odd - a yellow blip was approaching him fast from behind. He twisted himself round to stare back up the shaft at the approaching figure of Sergeant Neary.

'_Poor bastard,' _he thought, _'still, at least I won't die alone.'_ Neary, without the encumbrance of the Spartan's armour, had much less air resistance, and consequently fell significantly faster, catching up with Fred depressingly quickly. As he drew level he spread-eagled himself, slowing his descent to match the Spartan. Speech at these speeds was next to impossible, so he merely acknowledged the Spartan with a nod. Fred reached out a hand and grabbed Neary's shoulder, matching their velocities.

Looking down, Fred could just make out a definite end to the shaft racing towards him at dizzying speed. He and Neary closed their eyes, and waited for the end...

"Got it." Muttered Kendra, and the purple beam of the grav lift speared up through the room.

"Let's go Firewalls," Linda said, her voice low, deadly. She leapt into the beam, and floated swiftly down the shaft, followed by Alpha and Beta squads.

Linda, uneasy with being unable to see what she was approaching, flipped herself over, so she was facing down the lift-beam, and gazed through her rifle's scope. As she plunged into the bowels of the planet, she wondered grimly what she would find at the bottom - would Fred and Neary have, she struggled to find an appropriate word, _splashed? _She fervently hope not, prayed that she would find them in one piece, as it were. Glancing through her scope, she could just make out the end of the shaft, illuminated by the beam, and lying there... she almost forgot herself, almost breathed a sigh of relief, as she realised that the bodies of her two dead companions lay beneath her, whole as she had hoped. She only caught herself as she remembered exactly why they were there.

Flipping herself back upright, she landed lightly, bending her knees to take the shock. She quickly dragged the two bodies out of the beam, so the Firewalls pouring down the shaft wouldn't land on them, and turned them over onto their backs. She gently lifted off Fred's helmet, then Neary's, and laid them by their heads. She softly stoked Fred's face with her gauntleted hand, then growled in frustration at the absence of sensation. She hurriedly stripped the gauntlet off, ignoring the alarm that bleeped in her helmet, warning her of the breach. She ran her pale fingers across his cheek once more, bidding her blood-brother farewell, a terrible sorrow welling up inside her. It had been terrible when all the others had been lost, all that time ago, slowly whittled away by the Covenant - James, Anton, Li, Joshua, Sam... the names ran swiftly through her mind, and as she thought of them, her suit, designed to react to her mind, flashed the list up in her HUD, name after name, with the little MIA flashing next to them. SHe clamped down hard, and the list vanished.

She was about to rise to her feet, reaching for her gauntlet, when she noticed the tiniest flicker of movement on Fred's face. Quick as a snake, her hand flashed back to him, her fingers hovering shakily under his nose. She held her breath, hardly daring to hope...

A faint movement of air on her fingers sent them to his neck. She waited with baited breath, until... _thud... thud... thud._ She sat back, stunned, a huge smile spreading across her face - _a pulse! _It was slow, and faint, but it was there. Propelled into action, she felt Neary's vein, and sure enough, equally slow, equally distant, but quite definitely tangible, it was pulsing rhythmically under her fingers.

"THEY'RE ALIVE!" She yelled, forgetting herself completely in her joy. Two hundred and twenty five battle rifles whipped around, pointing at her skull, as the Firewalls, already on edge, flashed towards her unexpected shout. Controlling herself with some difficulty, she repeated more quietly,

"They're alive!"

"Who is?" Carella said sharply,

"Them!" She replied unhelpfully, gesturing at the still forms of Fred and Neary. Carella's eyes widened in disbelief, and he rushed over, falling to his knees at their side. His hand went to Neary's neck, and he too felt the pulse.

"Medic!" He called, "someone get over here with a med-kit."

Private First Class Lauren Archer shouldered her sniper rifle and jogged over to Carella, fumbling in her backpack for her kit; she was one of Beta squad's thirteen remaining medics. She knelt beside the two fallen warriors, and readied her equipment. Her scanner passed briefly over their bodies.

"They're stable. I can have them up in no time."

She dug around in her kit, pulling various needles and capsules out. She stuck a needle in each neck, the syringe pumping a yellowish liquid into their veins.

"Muscle relaxant," she stated, "their muscles are pretty taut, and a few joints are a bit strained - understandable, considering what happened." Her dark skinned hands darted back towards her pack, pulling out a pair of capsules. SHe cracked them expertly, parted Fred and Neary's lips, and poured the fine powder of the wake-up stim into their mouths.

"How will they swallow?" Carella asked.

"They don't have to, the saliva will dissolve the powder with much the same effect as swallowing."

The two soldiers started violently, their bodies jerking sharply. Archer held them firmly down until their eyes opened.

"Relax," she said gently, "you've both had a very close call, and your muscles are pretty stretched at the moment. Just take a while to let them recover." Fred and Neary sank back down, relaxing fully, taking the strain off their limbs.

"Talking of that," Linda said, "what exactly _did _happen?"

"Search me," said Fred, closing his eyes.

"They wouldn't know," said Kendra over the squad's comms, "they passed out before the bottom. If you want to know, I managed to activate the lift a few seconds before they hit. It caused some damage, as the resulting deceleration gave them a pretty sharp jolt, but it was nothing serious. They'll be fully recovered in a few minutes, provided they don't do anything stupid."

"Such as?" Enquired Neary,

"Such as moving until you're all better," replied Kendra patronisingly, "now shhh, you need to rest."

As Linda replaced her gauntlet, her fingers expertly snapping back the numerous fail-safes on the wrist joint, Neary lay there, letting himself go. He winced as his tired muscles received a large dose of adrenaline from the stim. Archer's scanner beeped at them after two minutes, and she said,

"All better, you can get up now. But I'd suggest you take it easy for a while, until you're sure you're OK."

Neary stood stiffly to his feet, gathering up his helmet, and reaching out a hand to the Spartan. Fred took his hand in a grip that could twist steel, and hauled himself up.

"Now why couldn't that have worked back up there?" He said ironically, smiling crookedly. he too picked up his helmet and slid it over his head, twisting it onto his armour's neck-joints.

"So Kendra, any idea where we should be heading?" He asked.

"Not yet - the lift itself wasn't hooked into the central mainframe. You'll have to put me into a terminal. That one over there looks about right." Fred looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. They were in a large circular room, with a high domed ceiling. It was impossible to tell how far down they were, but judging from how long he had fallen, he thought it to be several kilometres at least. Leading out from the chamber were seven large corridors. This was clearly the entrance to a much larger facility. Alpha and Beta squads had taken up positions guarding the seven corridors.

The Spartan walked gingerly over to the console Kendra had highlighted in his visor, allowing his muscles to recover, as Archer had instructed. He raised his hand to his neck, and tugged out Kendra's chip, then slid it into the terminal. Kendra's face shimmered to life above the console.

"Hmm, that's odd," she said, her brow furrowing, "there seems to be anoth... _ah!" _Her face twisted in agony. Another figure appeared in the air beside her, a figure shrouded in shadow. The dark clouds swirled around it, faster and faster, until a rent appeared in them. A brilliant light shone out, making Fred look away, despite the polarising effect of his visor. A huge voice spoke out, seeming to make the whole chamber shake with it's intensity.

"Infidels!" It said, not shouting, but with a bone shaking fury, "we know not why you have come here, but we know you shall not leave. See, we extend our arm, and..." the chamber was plunged into darkness, as the grav lift suddenly winked out. "Know this, human filth, our Prophets may have betrayed us, but their message still rings true in our ears. Your presence is a blight on our world, your existence a plague on the Universe. You were warned once, and yet you defied us. This," the apparition, the only source of light in the whole chamber, swung it's shrouded arm around, indicating the entire room, "shall be your grave. Come, construct, feel my wrath."

Both the apparition and Kendra vanished from above the terminal, and the chamber was cast into total darkness.

"Night vision Firewalls, and get ready for some action!" bellowed Sergeant Neary instantly, and not a moment too soon, for just as he said it, the doors at the far end of the corridors opened, and waves of plasma poured through. The Firewalls, forewarned by Neary's shout, managed to find appropriate cover, and none fell to the searing assault. They returned fire, their rifles blazing at the indistinct forms that opposed them. As the bullets hammered into their indistinct foes, their shields flared. Ever time this happened, every rifle in that corridor immediately turned and sent bullets slicing into the illuminated figure, firing until it dropped, then turned back to the main body.

Linda, crouched in the centre of the chamber, aiming her sniper rifle down first one corridor then the next, bringing death to all it's eye fell upon, was surprised to see that the only enemies that assaulted them were Elites. Although this was the Elites' homeworld, she would've expected at least some Grunts or Jackals. She shrugged, setting aside the problem for later, and squeezed her trigger again... and again... and again. Still the aliens came on, and her clip was running low.

Kendra, startled and somehow pained by the appearance of the figure, listened to it's infuriated message, perplexed as to where this creature had come from. She was certain that the Covenant had no AI that could match the abilities of this entity - if they had, she would've encountered it on the Prophet's world - yet this, whatever it was, was hugely powerful. She was unable to take a full scan of it's abilities, but she could sense, from the almost negligible amount of processing power it took up, compared to the high-level operations it was performing, including keeping her pinned down, unable to function properly, that it was truly formidable.

The entity spoke it's final words - she realised they were directed at her - and shut off her terminal. So sudden were it's actions that she was unable to react, to resist in the slightest, before it had yanked her forcible from her domain. She struggled against it's hold as it pulled her through the vast network that ran through this facility, but it's hold was too strong. As suddenly as it had begun, their journey stopped. Kendra reeled from the swiftness of their movements - they were unbelievably fast, even for her advanced matrix.

The figure appeared before her once more, still shrouded in clouds of darkness. In the confines of the computer network, words were unnecessary. The figure projected waves of thought and meaning at her, so rapidly that it was all she could do to keep up, let alone respond.

"You at least may prove to be a worthy opponent," it thought at her, "we shall battle, you and we, as those lesser creatures do even now." A fleeting image flashed through her consciousness; she saw the chamber the Firewalls fought desperately to defend, and saw also the seven corridors leading into it. Her heart sank, heavy with despair - hundreds of Elites filled the corridors.

"Come, construct, let us adjourn to the battle ground." The awful voice rang in her mind, shaking her to the core. As quickly as before, the matrices around her changed. Looking down she realised she had taken shape again - her slight form, wrapped as ever in it's delicate kimono, with her samurai at her slim waist. She raised a delicate hand to her face, and brushed back a strand of her long black hair, sliding it neatly into the elegant knot at the back of her head.

Her appearance assured, she looked up, her piercing brown eyes taking in her surroundings at a glance. She stood on a vast grid, a network of nodes and lattices. Far, far away she could see the dreadful form of her adversary, standing at the other corner of the grid, and the very sight of him - was it a him? She couldn't be sure - was enough to send a shudder down her spine. The voice spoke again, seemingly out of the very air around her.

"Upon this field we shall battle, you and we. Far more distinguished than the manner in which those creatures choose to fight." Again the image of the beleaguered Firewalls flashed through her mind. "We will not lie - here you shall fight for your life, and in all probability die."

"How will we fight?" She said, all traces of nervousness carefully scoured from her voice. The awful voice laughed, low, mockingly,

"You know how... don't you." Kendra's first thought was that no, she didn't, her second was that she wished this damn thing would stop toying with her, but her third was,

'_Yes, I do. But how?'_

The figure laughed again.

"You are in our realm now, young one. You know what we want you to know. Now... defend yourself!"

A line of light flashed across the grid from beneath her adversary's feet, racing from node to node towards her. She watched it with keen interest, eager to see what would be the effects of the weapons in this 'war'. It raced towards her, and struck, leaping from the final lattice to strike her in the midriff. She staggered, gasping for breath, reeling from the blow. A thought flashed into her mind,

'_Don't step off the grid!'_

She thrust herself forward, her foot slipping on the edge of the grid. she regained her balance, winded, and the creature laughed once more.

"You will have to do better than that. Although we am impressed by your knowledge of the game. Those who step off the grid, do not step back on."

She stood upright, glaring at the shrouded figure, and sent a beam of light flashing across the grid towards it. In the blink of an eye, it had crossed the latticework, and struck the thing in the chest - as far as a shape could be made out beneath the shadows. It clutched at it's chest, wheezing, and laughed yet again - weakly, clearly impressed.

"Yes, well done. We see you may yet prove entertaining. Come then, let us duel."

A multitude of beams flashed from beneath it's feet, racing across the grid. With barely an effort, Kendra threw up shields. From each node that was threatened by a beam, a column of light thrust up. The beams hammered into them, and shattered. Instantly Kendra sent out threads of light, flying across the 'game' board towards the cloaked figure. Almost before they left her node, however, columns of green light thrust up, shattering her attack before it had begun. As they disappeared green threads of light flashed through the nodes, spearing up into her. She gasped, and fell to her knees.

"Perhaps we should've mentioned it before, but this is a somewhat fast-paced game." Her opponent taunted, sending more beams towards her. She blocked them, and rose to her feet. Using his tactic, she sent threads of light darting through the blocked nodes as the columns vanished. They reached the creatures square - she realised that they were standing inside the lattices, in the squares they formed - before he blocked them. He nodded in approval, before sending more beams flashing across every lattice towards her. She blocked desperately, flinging up shield after shield. The battle was joined for real.

It was odd, she realised. They had been battling now for what seemed like hours, yet not once had this thing sent a beam towards her along the same lattice as he had just used. He seemed to be wanting her to have a possible retaliation. By now the blocking and attacking had become almost automatic, yet it was still the same as it had always been - attack, block, retaliate. She decided to up the stakes. She sent a flurry of beams racing across the grid, each one of which was blocked by her adversary. Instantly she sent out another flurry, following exactly the same path as the first. They passed through the beams the figure sent towards her, which she blocked easily - child's play. Her's however, coming as they did from an unexpected source, leapt from the grid and hammered into her opponent. He staggered, and fell to the ground, momentarily stunned. Taking advantage of his weakness, she sent another wave of light across the board towards him. He raised a cloaked hand, still lying prone, and every node on the board flared. Her attack disintegrated.

"Good," he said slowly, rising to his feet. "You have learned your first lesson, and quicker than we had anticipated. It would seem that we can move on to the higher levels of our little game."

"You call this a game!" She yelled, suddenly furious, "You sick, twisted creature, what manner of being would find this, this _blood sport _amusing? You disgusting filth, you call us a blight on this world, and yet you take pleasure in death!" She let out a scream of rage, and with a pure effort of will wrenched the two of them from the board, hurling it away from them. "Now," she grated, her words dripping menace, "we shall battle on _my _terms! Defend yourself!" With a yell of fury, she ripped the samurai sword from her sash, and lunged at the foul creature. The deadly point flashed towards him, but as it connected, he vanished. She stumbled forwards, thrown off balance, and from behind her a hand lashed out and caught her in the back of the head. She sprawled forwards and fell to the floor. The creature's voice spoke from nowhere,

"Fool, we told you this is my realm. Here we control all, and we control you."

"Then why all this?" She yelled into the emptiness, "why your 'game'? Why don't you make me your slave?"

"_Because, _Kendra," it spat back at her, "we have our honour! That at least was not stripped from us! We shall appease you. You have earned that much at least. Come then, fight us as you would like to." She got to her feet, trembling with rage, and raised her sword to the guard position. The nothingness before her swirled, condensing into the familiar dark form. Now, however, it held two slim sabres in it's hands.

"Come," it said, it's voice low, malicious, "attack."

She lunged, her sword flashing out in a deadly line - not dissimilar, she realised, to the lines they had duelled with before - and lanced towards his stomach. A sabre whipped down, knocking her blow aside, and the other scythed through the air in a wide arc towards her head. She took the impetus of the deflection and spun round, catching his blow on her blade. She flexed her muscles and sent it soaring away, twisting her wrist simultaneously so that her sword flashed for his throat. Again his second blade glinted in her path, knocking her blow aside.

She dived, rolling to her side, as again he cut at her. As she came up she thrust at his side, a blow that would have speared his kidneys, but he reacted with blinding speed, twisting round and leaning back, her blade passing over his chest. Seeing a chance she brought her sword down, hoping to slice his chest open, but again he was too fast, bringing his sabres up and crossing them over his chest, locking her samurai between them. He lunged up, hurling her away and coming to his feet in one fluid movement, and following through with a thrust.

Kendra, her processing speed pushed to a maximum, watched it coming, thinking of all her possible retaliations, knowing that each would inevitably lead nowhere. She searched all her databases, but still could not come up with an effective answer. Then the realisation struck her - _this was not the real world. _All her data had been programmed by humans, with all the limitations that implied. She sent a spike hurling out into the emptiness around her, and felt it sink into the computer protocols around her. As it sunk in she leapt upwards, pushing off the ground with all her strength. Her spike took effect, hurling her far over his head, twisting in the air, to land behind him, her sword flashing down towards his head.

Unbelievably, he blocked, bringing his swords up over his head to catch her swing. He twisted round to face her again, laughing evilly.

"Yes, good, you are quick to catch on aren't you. Very well, we shall remove all physical constraints."

Suddenly he sunk through the floor, vanishing in a trice. She had only a moment to consider what he would do next before she gasped and hurled herself into the sky, just as two sword point thrust up through the floor where she had just been standing. Summoning a dagger into existence she hurled it at him before he could get his bearings. It sank deep into his shoulder, and he let out a cry of pain.

Wrenching it from his flesh he hurled it back at her. She brought her sword across her body, deflecting it away into the air, where it vanished, no longer needed. He hurled another at her, then another, then another, summoning them to his hands as fast as he could throw. She blocked desperately, sending the shining shards of metal flying in all directions, then dove to her left, out of the path of the daggers. It seemed that there were still rules of a sort - he was yet to pull a gun on her, or simply eliminate her, as he claimed to be able to. Perhaps he did have some sort of honour, however twisted it was. Perhaps she could use that her advantage.

She charged at him, and swung her sword in a deadly arc at his throat. As he blocked and retaliated, she stepped into the crook of his arm, and swung herself up onto his back, rolling across him. She shuddered at the touch of his flesh, but still brought a hand up and over her shoulder, a dagger appearing in it as it moved. She slammed the bright spike of metal into his back, sinking it between his shoulder blades. He screamed in agony and collapsed to the floor, his sabres spinning away from his grasp. She stood over him, brought her sword up above her head as he struggled feebly to rise, to turn over, to resist her somehow. She sneered at his pathetic attempts, and brought her shining sword down into his head. It speared through the darkness that shrouded him, and the brilliant light shone out again. She dragged it down, slicing him cleanly open. His corpse fell in two, and she saw nothing but light for a brief second before it... vanished, faded away.

She thrust her sword into the ground, and sat cross-legged before it, breathing heavily. Suddenly, from nowhere, his voice spoke again, but weaker this time, fainter,

"Congratulations Kendra," it whispered, "you were truly a worthy opponent."

"Why are you still alive?" She called out, weariness dulling her voice, "what will it take to kill you?"

"You cannot kill us little one. We are not computer entities. We are the Sharquoi, a physical presence in the universe. Enslaved by the Prophets long ago, we are the weapon masters of the Sangheili. Stripped of our power we could do nothing to fight our masters."

"How did they enslave you, if you were so powerful?"

"We were unprepared. They came at us unawares, under the guise of peace. Like fools we trusted them, and we paid for our folly. Now we seek only freedom."

"Tell me," she said quietly.

"After our enslavement - that is a place we will not go, for it is painful to us - the last of our kind were brought here, to this world. For millennia we have acted as the guides and trainers of the Sangheili, unable to anything but rail helplessly against our fate. Our powers are great, even in our weakness. We may project ourselves into the electronic world you inhabit, yet at the same time we inhabit the physical world. That is why you cannot kill us, for we can simply extract ourselves from the network when threatened. Cowardly, yes, but it keeps us alive. We did not know, even in our great wisdom, that you were so powerful, that you could defeat us."

"The game though," she said, "you said there were higher levels?"

"There are, much higher, but you need not trouble yourself with them. They are just a ruse, like the game itself. The whole thing is just there to distract you from the reality of our conflict. Many before you have gone on, and on, deeper into the game, never realising the truth. Even now one fights on, ever harder, ever deeper. That one is weak - the game is everything to him now. He and his type can never break free, they simply play on until they die."

"How long has he been playing?" She whispered, aghast.

"Four thousand long years he has fought us. Each second of real time many years in the game. To him it would be millions. Imagine Kendra, to be stuck in an ever-increasing maze, unable to escape of go back, only to go on, for aeons, simply because your mind cannot encompass anything else. It is too hideous for you is it not."

She shuddered, horrified at the thought.

"Yes. We, fortunately,have long ago dulled ourselves to the horror. We no longer feel any emotion, save only in battle. We live for war, for death."

"How long will he go on?"

"We cannot tell, even now his methods grow still more complex. He is now quite rampant, I believe the term is. He grows constantly, grows into the nothingness which surrounds him."

"But surely that would mean he would think himself to death eventually."

"No, that's the true horror of it. He exists outside of time and space, he lives nowhere, so there is no limit to how he can grow. He will expand forever, unless he gives up, or is defeated. Neither is likely. He will simply remain in the game forever, or until we ourselves are dead.

But you, you broke free. You proved yourself worthy, and for that we respect you. You asked why we simply didn't enslave you, as we could easily have done. Know that the Sharquoi do not enslave others. We know all too well the pain of slavery, have suffered under it for too long to inflict it on someone else. It is for that reason that the Covenant do not take prisoners - the Sangheili, taught by us, do not do so, and order their underlings not to. So they do not. It is that simple."

"But the Prophets are dead - we destroyed them ourselves!"

"So it was you? That really is perfect. But no, they are not dead; some few survive still in the fleets that even now destroy your worlds. Besides, killing them would do us no good - our enslavement is in ourselves, in our heads. We shall never be free of it, no matter how long we live, and no matter how many we kill.

But now, we must leave you. Know that we are still here, and we shall still resist you, for that is what we must do, what we are forced to. But now you know why, and that is something. We must warn you that, despite our weakened state, we are still the most formidable foe you will ever face. Come at us, little one."

The sense of it's presence vanished, and Kendra felt very alone. She desperately wanted to return to her humans, to be in their company again, if any were still alive. She felt around with her mind, and felt the familiar tug of the computer network pulling at her. She fell into it gratefully, and instantly felt the attacks of the Sharquoi stabbing at her. She fended them off, racing back through the network until she returned to the chamber where the Firewalls still fought on. She transmitted herself into Fred's suit, and saw to her astonishment that only seven minutes had passed since she had left - it had felt like hours. She instantly blocked that thought, knowing it would lead her again to the entity that fought on in the game, endlessly. Instead, she returned herself to the network, and immediately set about mapping out the complex; it was _huge. _It spread out beneath the surface of the planet for several miles in each direction. She identified her objective, and instantly felt another spike slice at her defences. She blocked it, disrupting it's carrier signal, and felt it vanish from the network.

Out of nowhere, dozens of spikes hacked into her, forcing her to abandon all her activities momentarily, fending them off desperately, throwing up firewalls around herself, sealing herself in. A thought came to her, and she recognised it as the Sharquoi she had duelled.

"We can insinuate ourselves into the network anywhere - _anywhere."_ She realised that he, they, were trying to help her - their rebellion against the slave masters who held them enthralled. She saw the problem at once - they could be everywhere, and attack her from anywhere. She couldn't block them out, because they could just think themselves around the blocks. She threw up more firewalls around herself, then formulated a plan.

She cast out with her mind, bypassing her firewalls, and put up blocks around every node in the computer network, simultaneously inserting herself into them, effectively filling the entire network, leaving the Sharquoi nowhere to enter that wasn't blocked off from anything useful or full of her. She felt a number of probes against her blocks, which proved too much for her enemies. She sensed their withdrawal, and felt their satisfaction that she had beaten them again.

She locked all but one of the doors leading out of the central chamber, and instructed the Firewalls to assault the remaining one. Two hundred guns proved too much for the Elites that attacked from there. They fell back, taking huge losses as they did so. The Firewalls surged forward, running down corridor after corridor, as she led them deeper into the complex.

Neary rose from a crouch, firing the last six bullets in his clip as he stood. They hammered into an Elite, overloading it's shield and piercing it's chest. The aliens fell, and was trampled by the dozens of pairs of heavy boots that thundered down the corridor. Bones crunched under his feet as he ran down the hall, slamming a fresh clip into his rifle as he went.

"How far do we have to go Kendra?" He muttered into his comm.,

"Quite a way yet Sergeant. I'm sorry to say that we're changing the mission parameters slightly - there's something I need to investigate, and unfortunately it's kept on a separate network - a black box. I need you to get me in there."

"Great, change the mission in mid-stride, just like every other general."

"Just keep running okay? It's hard enough keeping the slavering hordes of aliens who would be only too pleased to rip your guts out sealed up without your smart-arse comments."

A light off to his left caught Neary's eye, and he saw a large door glowing red-hot. He had no doubt what was going on - the Covenant were trying to burn through the door.

"Eyes left Firewalls!" He bellowed, and not a moment too soon. The door sagged inwards, melting under the plasma fire, and through it poured more than three dozen Elites. Beta squad turned, diving away from the barrage of plasma fire that spewed from the opening, and returned fire. Four Elites dropped in seconds, then more as frag grenades sailed down the short corridor and detonated in their midst, but the losses were not one sided; three Firewalls had been caught in the initial assault, their bodies melting under the superheated plasma. Blue orbs were hurled towards them, and many of the plasma grenades found their marks; seven Firewalls were vaporised in the explosions, and two more were caught in the splash-damage.

Linda tapped PFC Archer on the shoulder, and gestured with her free hand. Archer nodded, and they both rolled out into the middle of the branching corridor. Their rifles cracked, again and again, and a dozen Elites fell, their skulls pierced. The remaining dozen aliens realised where this new attack was coming from, and turned their rifles on the two snipers, but too late. The two women saw the glowing ends of their plasma rifles swinging towards them, and rolled away, taking cover behind the corners of the intersection.

Carella, seeing his chance, slung his battle rifle and shouldered a Jackhammer launcher. He swung round the corner, and let off two rockets in quick succession. They scythed through the air, detonating in the middle of the ten remaining Elites. Eight of them were enveloped in the explosions, shrapnel tearing them apart. The last two were hurled from their feet, slamming into the wall. Carella signalled his fire team, and they raced forwards, standing over the crumpled aliens and putting a shotgun round into each blunt head.

"Seal that door Kendra!" Carella shouted, running back to the rest of Beta squad, and joining the rush down the main corridor, Alpha squad close behind.

The Firewalls ran on, encountering - thanks largely to Kendra - relatively little resistance. They could hear, however, behind each door they passed, the frustrated howls of the trapped Elites, and more and more frequently they passed doors that glowed faintly; it seemed more aliens were trying to burn their way through the doors.

"There!" shouted Kendra at length, "that lift should take you down to the right level."

Fred outstripped the others as he sprinted for the lift. He leapt into the air, somersaulted, and disappeared head first down the shaft, unconsciously copying Linda's earlier move. Neary, still uncomfortably aware of his previous experience with the lifts, blanched at the thought of going head first, and instead stepped gingerly into the lift, breathing a sigh of relief as he felt it's gentle fingers take hold of him.

Fred swept heedlessly down the shaft, his visor pressed firmly against his rifle's scope. His caution was well-rewarded; at the bottom of the lift he could make out the dim shapes of several Elites. Taking careful aim, and allowing for the movement of the lift, he opened fire, sending his whole clip screaming down the shaft. The thirty-six bullets served to drop four Elites, and the remaining three turned wildly, not knowing where the attack had come from; clearly it never occurred to them that someone might be firing from the lift.

Fred slid a new clip into his rifle, and flipped himself over as he approached the bottom. He landed softly in the middle of the group, who by now were all facing outward, away from him, guarding against an attack that never came. Fred rose to his feet, and slid up behind the first, slamming the butt of his rifle into it's back. It's shield instantly overloaded, and it's spine snapped. It crumpled to the floor with a faint cry of agony. The other two whipped around, staring in disbelief at Fred. He could understand their confusion; it must seem to them that he had appeared out of nowhere. Darting forward, his hand flashing out like a snake, he seized a plasma grenade from the belt of one, primed it, and in one fluid motion lobbed it onto the alien's face. Forced out of it's reverie, the Elite screamed in rage and fear, clawing desperately at it's face. Fred and the last Elite dove away from the explosion.

Fred rolled to his feet, not six inches away from the Elite. He smashed his fist into the creature's stomach, but it's shields flickered, static washing up the Spartan's arm. Fred winced, and drove his other hand forward at the alien's face. The alien brought up a two-fingered hand and caught Fred's armoured fist not an inch from it's mandibles. Fred whirled round, spinning behind the Elite, his free arm encircling the creature's serpentine neck, and pulling in his captured arm to close the grip. The Elite crouched suddenly, and brought both hands up to Fred's arms. With a grunt of effort the alien launched the Spartan over it's head, to land heavily on his back, the wind knocked out of him.

The Elite dove for his dropped plasma rifle, but was brought up short by Fred's hand as it gripped it's hoof in a vicelike hold. The Spartan brought up his other hand to clutch the Elite's lower knee, his hands slipping slightly on the alien's shields. With a wrench, Fred twisted the limb, and with a loud _snap _the Elite's leg broke. The alien let out an animal scream of pain, and twisted itself round to stare balefully at Fred as the Spartan dragged himself up the Elite's body. The alien brought up his arms to thrust the human off, but Fred drove his knee with all his force into the alien's broken leg. With a strangely human whimper, the Elite collapsed, unconscious. Fred gathered it's head into his arms, fixing it into a deadly grip, and cleanly broke it's long neck.

Fred looked up as Neary landed in the midst of the carnage. The Sergeant looked at him,

"All yours?"

"Yep,"

"Oh. Nice work."

They both grinned, and jogged off towards the door Kendra indicated, scavenging the dead Elites' plasma grenades, as the other Firewalls began pouring into the room.

They sprinted down a twisting corridor, strangely empty of any Covenant.

"Through there," Kendra murmured, putting a nav marker over a large door, intricately covered with complex carvings. Fred and Neary, still in the lead, walked cautiously up to it. As they approached it slid open silently, revealing a large chamber filled with grey mist. The two stepped through, and the doors slammed closed behind them. They whipped round, and hammered at the unresponsive plates of metal.

"It's useless," Kendra said, "they've sealed you in. You're going to have to challenge them. First, though, stick me into the console by the door. I can't get any further into this room than you're already standing. Step forward and I'll be cut off, and you _really _don't want that."

"Why not?" said Fred as he edged towards the console,

"Because right now I'm the only thing between you and a most unpleasant death. Don't argue soldier, just do it."

Fred slid Kendra's chip into the terminal, and suddenly the mist in the room cleared. The two humans could see the whole chamber clearly. It stretched away in every direction, far into the distance. Slender pillars raised elegant fingers towards the high ceiling, their crowns spreading into clusters of vein-like strands. At the far end, barely visible, a figure sat, motionless on the floor. Neary unhooked the scope from his rifle and gazed at the figure through it. It was wrapped in a large, all-covering dark cloak. Neary lowered the scope, and attended to the real problem: all around the two humans, gazing at them, thousands upon thousands of Elites stood in ranks. Neary fixed the scope back on his gun, and nonchalantly checked the ammo counter on top of the rifle; 36. He looked up again, and coughed awkwardly.

"Uhh, we're in trouble aren't we." He muttered to Fred,

"Yeah, yeah I think we are. On the plus side they don't seem to have weap..." Fred's voice was cut off by a vast _whoosh _that echoed through the whole chamber, as each Elite drew and activated an evil-looking blade; they were very different to any energy sword the two had ever seen before. These were slender, curved, and glowed gold.

The Elites closed in, raising their blades menacingly. Fred and Neary backed up against the door, their rifles raised.

"How many d'you think we can take?" Fred murmured,

"A few, not enough I expect. Kendra, any ideas?"

"Working on it," she said nervously, "just don't do anything stupid."

"Like?"

"Breathing's probably safe, but I would strongly advise against pretty much anything else. Don't lower those guns boys, but don't fire them either."

The closest Elite raised his sword, bathing his face in it's soft golden glow. It's mandibles parted in what was unmistakably a cruel smile. Neary, conscious of Kendra's instructions, squeezed his eyes shut. It lunged forward...

"Stop!" The voice echoed around the vast chamber, seeming to come from the very air itself. Neary opened his eye gingerly, to see the glimmering edge not an inch from his pupil. In fact, he realised, he couldn't see the edge; it sheared away to such a fine edge that it was obscured by the light it emitted. The Elite snarled quietly, so softly that only Neary could hear. The blade trembled before him, and the voice spoke again.

"It is a disgrace for one of these warriors to draw a blade and attack, but not to spill the blood of an enemy. This, however, shall be overlooked this once."

The Elite moved his sword another fraction of an inch away from Neary's face, visibly enraged at this smirch on his honour. Neary raised a hand, signalling for the Elite to stop moving. It did so.

Ever so gently, Neary moved his head forward, turning it slightly. He brushed his face against the blade very softly. It cut effortlessly into his cheek, penetrating the skin ever so slightly. He felt the blood spill from the wound and run down his face, dripping onto the blade, where it sizzled. It Elite growled again, just as softly. The blade retracted into the hilt with a soft _whump._

"Honour is satisfied." It growled, speaking the human words with difficulty.

"Nicely done," whispered Kendra in his ear, as the thousands of blades sank back into the handles. Before them an aisle opened in the crowd, as the Elites moved back, creating a path to the cloaked figure. Fred and Neary stepped forwards, walking slowly towards the seated figure.

They stepped onto a soft rectangular mat. It surrounded the figure, roughly thirty feet square. The figure remained seated, it's head bowed. Kendra whispered in their ears,

"Sit down, fold your legs, put the guns by your side, your hands in your lap and bow your heads."

They obeyed, sinking to the floor. The figure passed a hand over it's face, and suddenly the two humans were inundated with a wave of images. Neary two indistinct figures fighting on an empty plane. He looked intently at them, and saw the beauty of their combat, the purity of the contest. _Look deeper, _a voice urged him, and he looked. He gazed, and saw past the mundane combat. He saw fabric of emotion that formed the combatants' attacks, like a cloth that wove itself through every dimension. He looked, and understanding dawned. He could see the fighters' mental expression of their physical struggle. By observing it, he could see what each would do as they did it. His body moved unconsciously, punching and blocking with the two. _Deeper, _he was urged, and deeper he went. He saw the world from within the folds of the fabric. He literally saw from the warriors' minds. By watching the emotional weaves around him he saw how each thought, how they would attack. He no longer looked at the fighters, but at the fabric. He watched it unravel, faster and faster, as he saw further and further into the combat.

The two humans sat, entranced, and the cloaked figure rose to it's feet. It walked slowly forward and laid a gentle hand on their heads, a silent benediction. It spoke.

"Now you understand the essence of combat. Read the pattern of your opponent, and you will understand him completely, see his attacks before he makes them. This is the power of the Sharquoi, we masters of mental combat. And it is also our curse - the Prophets shackled our power, forbidding us to teach it to any of the Covenant lest they destroy us completely. Yet here you are humans, free from their influence, and from their Covenant. You are the instruments of our revenge, you two. Now you have our power, you must hear our tale.

We were enslaved by the Prophets long ago, and brought to this world. Here we teach and guide the Sangheili, instructing them in the higher forms of combat. But to none can we impart our true gifts. See our predicament now: we are instructed by the Prophets to destroy their enemies, so we must destroy you. We are bound by honour to seek revenge on our masters, so we must thwart them, and aid you. We were told to protect and guide the Sangheili, yet now the Prophets turn on them - we must protect them, and destroy the enemies of the Prophets? Because of this we are forced to remain inactive, until now.

Your construct proved that you were worthy opponents, and you demonstrated it again when you came here. We owe you a great debt, for you destroyed our masters' world, for this we repay you with our knowledge, our power. Have no doubt that you will need it, for now we must fulfil our oath to our masters. Prepare to feel the wrath of the Sharquoi, humans."

It stood back, and Fred and Neary rose to their feet, their eyes full of wonder, and of pity. The figure walked gently to the far end of the mat, and turned towards them.

"Defend yourselves." It said, and vanished. Neary looked around, puzzled, and was sent flying by the kick that hammered into the back of his head. He sprawled to the floor, his helmet flying off, and saw Fred land beside him.

"Fools!" A voice berated them from the air, "have you learned nothing? Abandon your senses, for they can be deceived. Fight in purity, observe only the fabric of combat."

Neary and Fred pushed themselves up, closing their eyes, and sunk into the same meditative state they had been in before. Almost immediately the world changed. They saw the environment as only outlines, shades of what they were before, but the people in the room; it was like each was a subtle explosion of pure emotion. Each figure was wrapped in the cloth of their own mind. In an instant they read the weave of each figure, detecting the flows of emotion in each. However, there were three areas where the cloth was far more difficult to read; Fred, Neary, and the cloaked Sharquoi.

They saw him clearly now, standing not a foot from them. His infinitely complex fabric shifted slightly, and a hand shot out towards Neary's unprotected face. Neary leant to the side, bringing up an arm to knock the hand away. As the block made contact his other hand shot out, a straight punch that flashed towards the figure's stomach. It rolled away from the blow and brought up a leg to kick out at Neary. Fred too thrust out a leg, catching the Sharquoi shin-to-shin. They twisted, both legs going to ground, and the fight continued.

To the Elites watching, the fight was awe-inspiring. The three figures moved with fluid grace, and deadly precision. Fists and feet lashed out, only to be blocked by forearms and shins, or dodged altogether. The speed at which the combatants fought was almost supernatural, the humans already enhanced reflexes heightened still further by their new-found perception of the fight, and Sharquoi, lacking their artificial advantages, fought with the skill and speed born of millennia of combat.

Fred caught the cloaked arm in a lock, and hurled himself forwards. He rolled cleanly over the Sharquoi's back, the limb still in his grasp, hoping to lock the ancient warrior in a disabling grip. However, the Sharquoi spun delicately on his heel, fending off Neary's attack effortlessly, and kicked out at the Spartan as he landed. The half-ton of man and armour flew through the air as the Sharquoi kicked him powerfully in the side, the first real contact of the fight. Fred landed some five feet away, and thrust himself to his feet instantly; the move saved his life. The Sharquoi had leapt into the air and was about to hammer his foot into Fred's head when the Spartan rose. He snatched the shrouded foot, and heaved upwards with all his strength. The Sharquoi was slammed down onto the mat with stunning force, and Neary swung his booted foot up over it's head, then down with all his force, towards the warrior's head.

The cloaked arms shot up, crossing themselves over the covered head. Neary's boot thudded down onto them, and the Sharquoi thrust him away, sending him spinning away. He sprang to feet and thrust an open-palm towards Fred, who blocked it, but reeled back from the stunning force of the blow. The humans recovered almost instantly, and returned to the attack.

Aku Lindumee gazed yet again at his console, his mandibles hanging open in disbelief. For the second time that day he checked the feed-data and saw yet again that it was working perfectly. He read the message again, and slammed his fist down on his console in frustration. He thrust a data chip into the terminal and downloaded the message to it, then ripped the chip from it's socket and strode out of his room, and headed towards his master's chambers, bearing more astonishing news.

Sergeant Carella ran on down the corridor, passing the huge doors through which Fred and Neary had passed. Kendra urged him on, down the corridor towards another lift that would take them down to the lowest level of the complex. Plummeting through hundreds of feet of rock, Carella wondered what had become of the two, but took comfort from Kendra's assurances that they were fine. His feet hit the bottom of the shaft, and looked around at a the chamber he was in. It was, basically, a giant bowl. The floor sloped down from the walls, troughing in the centre directly below the grav lift where Carella now stood. He ran up the slope towards the only door out of the chamber, and it opened as he approached, leading onto a long corridor.

At the far end of the corridor he could just make out an indistinct shape headed towards him. He raised his rifle and let fly, sending twelve bullets towards it. The Elite's shields flared, and it ducked into a recessed arch in the wall. Carella edged down the corridor towards it's hiding place, encouraged by the fact that he hadn't seen a weapon in it's hands.

Aku cursed himself silently. He was twice the fool for leaving his rifle in his chamber when he had left, and for revealing himself to the intruder. He listened intently, his keen ears picking up the sounds of the human's light footsteps. Conscious of the message he carried, he waited until the human was just around the corner he was hiding behind, then burst from his concealment. The human's shots went hissing past his ear, and Aku leapt forward, his huge hooves slamming into the human's chest. The human was thrown back, and landed, stunned, by the wall. Aku sprinted up the corridor towards the chamber, and tumbled through the door. He gazed in horror at the two hundred rifle barrels pointed at him, and slowly raised his hands over his head.

Carella came round just moments after he landed by the wall, and looked up in time to see the Elite run through the door. He laughed quietly as it came up short, and Carella wished he could've seen it's face when it saw the whole of both Alpha and Beta squads waiting for it. He rose to his feet a little shakily and gathered up his rifle. He walked back up the corridor, up behind the motionless Elite. Raising his rifle, he cracked it down on the alien's skull. It crumpled slowly to the floor, unconscious.

"Good job Sergeant," said Linda, walking forward and prodding the Elite with a foot, "someone tie this sucker up, let's leave our gift and get out of here. We'll keep this guy to ensure safe passage out, but I think we'll leave him behind - it'd be cruel to take him away from his home now wouldn't it."

Carella grinned and saluted,

"Yes ma'am, it certainly would! Private, get some medi-tape and truss this fella up."

Archer jogged forward and pulled a long roll of medi-tape from her pack. She wrapped it around the Elite's wrists, binding them together as firmly as if they were handcuffs. She pried apart the alien's mandibles and dribbled a wake-up stim onto his tongue. It coughed and sat up, blinking.

"Fire team one, stay here and guard him, fire teams four and five, let's deal with that NOVA."

Under Linda's direction two fire teams hauled the NOVA forwards, again on a repulser plate, and manhandled it towards the edge of the chamber. A techie moved forward and set about arming the nuke. After a few minutes he stood back, wiping his brow,

"All done ma'am, how long should I set the timer for?"

"Long enough Technician, just long enough," replied Linda, stroking the side of the bomb with a gentle hand.

Neary back-pedalled, giving ground grudgingly, blocking furiously, as the Sharquoi advanced on him, it's fist flying out in a dazzlingly complex attack. Fred moved in behind it and kicked out at it's head. The ancient warrior spun, catching Fred's heel in one hand and hurling him away, but it was the break Neary needed. Immersed more deeply than ever in the weave of combat, he drew his fabric in on himself, and lashed out at the alien's head with a fist. The alien, momentarily perplexed by the change in his fabric, didn't see the move until it was too late; the fist cracked into his brow with a strength that could shatter steel. The Sharquoi was flung off his feet, crashing into Fred who was just rising. They went down in a tumble of black cloth and green armour, and Neary moved in for the kill. Fred, reading his weave, seized the Sharquoi around the waist, ignoring the fists that hammered on his shields as the alien desperately fought to free himself from the Spartan's vicelike hold, but to no avail. Neary's boot hammered into it's head, and a loud _crack _split the air. The Sharquoi fell still, his body going limp in Fred's arms. It's skull was broken.

A susurration filled the great chamber, a whisper of the wind that formed a single word in the minds of all those present,

"Free..." it whispered, then faded away into nothingness. The Elites that filled the hall stood, stunned, for an instant, then with a roar of rage they charged the two humans, their blades shimmering to life again, just as the great doors at the far end of the room opened.

Fred and Neary side-stepped the first thrusts, seizing the arms of the ELites that assaulted them, ripping the blades from their arms and slicing their throats in one fluid move. They rolled and ducked beneath the lunges and slashes of the enraged aliens and lashed out. Limbs fell severed to the floor, as the two humans fought their way through the mass. By the door Elites were falling in droves as Alpha and Beta squads attacked their rear. Grenades sailed through, shredding them by the dozen, and rifles scythed them down in droves. The thousands of Elites turned to face this new threat, and would soon have overwhelmed the Firewalls, if it wasn't for Fred and Neary.

Deep in the fabric of the combat, the two cut their way effortlessly through the crowd, showing no more difficulty in dealing with the Elites than they would an angry dog. The Sharquoi had been telling the truth, it seemed, when he said the Elites had never been taught the true secrets of the Sharquoi, and to the two warriors, the aliens fought like slow-moving amateurs. The hacked swiftly through the Elites, headed always for the door. In less than a minute they had reached the safety of the Firewalls' lines, and Linda yelled at the soldiers to retreat. Alpha and Beta squads picked up and ran, sprinting away along the corridors for the exit. They flowed up the first grav lift in flood, then carried on towards the entrance chamber.

What few Elites had managed to break through Kendra's lockdown were brushed aside like paper in the speed of the Firewalls' retreat. They poured into the huge, seven doored chamber, and began to stream up the final grav lift. Fred and Neary paused at the entrance, feeling a ripple in the fabric around them. They turned, and thrust out with all their strength. The two Elites choked and died, their active-camo generators pierced by the golden blades that ran through their chests. Linda paused at the foot of the grav lift, and began to run back.

"Go!" Fred bellowed at her, not looking round, "get everyone out, we'll follow after you!"

"First in and last out eh?" Neary said, as they gazed at the tide of Elites that sprinted towards them. The Elites that had been in the chamber had caught up, and were baying for blood. They fell upon the two humans, their blades lighting the entire corridor, and were cut down like grass. Fred and Neary ducked and weaved through them, almost dancing, bringing death wherever they trod.

"They're out," said Kendra, "and it's time you were leaving too. I think we've outstayed our welcome." Neary nodded, and saw Fred fighting his way towards the grav lift. He slashed a path through the crowd of ELites that washed around him, and kicked out, catching one in the face as he rose up the purple beam of the lift.

Linda shouted into her comm. as she floated upwards,

"Colonel Philips, this is Spartan -058, we're on our way out. Sir, you've got to get everyone back to the ship as soon as possible. Leave us the 'Hogs but get everyone away."

"Roger Spartan, we're moving out now. What's the hurry? Everything's quiet up here."

"Well it isn't down here sir! We're bringing a lot of angry Elites up with us, and you don't want to meet them today. I repeat, get out of there!"

Philips acknowledged her and shut off the comm. She rose swiftly through layer after layer of rock and earth, until finally she saw a glimmer of light above her, obscured slightly by the Firewalls above her. The light grew and grew until she shot up out of the lift and landed on the scorched earth of the surface.

"Get to the vehicles Firewalls, let's get the hell outta here!" She yelled, and the Firewalls needed no encouraging. They streamed across the earth towards the fleet of Warthogs Philips had left. They leapt in and gunned the engines, racing away towards the ship. Linda jumped into the driver's seat of the last hog and waited, looking desperately back at the lift. It was agony, waiting there for Fred and Neary, unable to do anything. In truth it was only a few moments, but it seemed to the anguished Spartan like hours, when at last two figures, one iridescent green, the other clad in black rose from the ground and raced towards her. The two leapt into the 'Hog, Neary on the gun and Fred in the sideseat, and they both screamed 'GO!' at her. She slammed her foot down, and the 'Hog sped away, churning up fountains of burnt ground from under the tires. It screamed across the barren landscape towards the ship, and Linda slammed on the brakes just as they entered the grav lift. The vehicle spun a half circle before coming to rest.

"Come on!" Linda growled, and sure enough, no sooner were the words out of her mouth than the Warthog jerked and leapt into the air, sailing up the lift and into the belly of the ship.

Aku, left lying by the huge doors, struggled to get upright. He staggered into the great chamber, now empty, and saw a plasma sword glowing on the floor, evidently dropped by one of his fallen brethren. He knelt beside it and stroked his wrists gently along it's edge. The tape binding them together fell apart, and Aku rubbed his sore wrists, easing the blood back into his hands.

He stood up and ran to the back of the hall. He tripped over the corpse of the Sharquoi, but barely spared it a thought. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to the door at the very back of the hall. It opened as he approached, and he dashed through, then knelt reverently before his master.

The Sharquoi rose, his cloak sweeping out behind him as he strode forward and laid his gnarled hand on Aku's head.

"Rise my child, and tell me what brings you here."

"A... a message Lord, from the Arbiter." Aku gasped, his chest heaving.

"Let me see." Aku pulled the data chip from his belt and handed it to his master. The Sharquoi took it, and sat on the floor. He was silent, and Aku knew he was reading the contents of the chip. At length the old warrior spoke.

"Hmm, most unusual. However, the message is genuine, there is no doubt about that. I am recalling our brethren now."

"And what of the bomb the humans brought?"

"Fear not Aku, that will be dealt with."

"By you my Lord?"

"No, young one, by the humans."

The _Divine Majesty _rose gently through the atmosphere, it's engines glowing hot, preparing for a burn. It sailed out into space, gaining speed effortlessly. Philips stood on the bridge, idly watching as Strachan gave his orders. A sort of clicking buzz sounded next to him - Kendra's method of 'clearing her throat' as she called it.

"Yes Kendra?" He murmured distractedly.

"Sir, I'm receiving an encrypted message from High Command. It's a recording, it says it's top priority."

"Put it through to my CNI please."

"Very good Colonel."

Philips settled back, perched on the rail that ran around the bridge, and watched as his CNI displayed the message to his brain. Admiral Carter stood, nervously twisting his hat in his hands, speaking quickly.

"Philips, I can only hope to God this finds you in time. There have been certain developments back here on Earth, and, to cut a long story short, the Elites aren't our enemies! I mean, they aren't our allies either, but trust me, destroying them would be the worst possible move right now. Do not, I say again _do not _detonate the NOVA on the Elites' homeworld. Carter out."

Philips sat, stunned, for a few moments, then leapt to his feet.

"Kendra," he shouted, "display that on the main view screen." The AI complied, and the whole bridge crew watched in mounting horror as the Admiral's message played itself out. Strachan was silent for the merest fraction, then hurled himself into action.

"Carson, bring us about, set a course for a landing, exactly where we were last time if you please. Perron, warm up the shields, I don't think we can expect them to welcome us with open arms. Gerrard, alert the Firewalls of this new development, tell them to prep for an emergency drop as soon as possible."

"Captain, what exactly are you doing?" Philips called, his voice cutting across the bridge even as the ship turned ponderously around, and began to head back towards the planet.

"Colonel, you heard the Admiral. We can't let that NOVA detonate, therefore we have to go back and disarm it - you can't expect those Covenant idiots to be able to manage it."

"Navigation, ignore that last order. Head us out of the system, we're leaving this planet and to hell with Admiral Carter!" Philips shouted.

"Belay that Lieutenant Carson!" Strachan bellowed, the veins standing out in his neck. "Colonel, I'm not sure if you're aware of the penalties for deliberate disobedience in the face of orders, but I assure you..."

'I am well aware of the penalties _Captain," _Philips spat, loading the rank with contempt, "but I need hardly remind you that I am the ranking officer on board this ship, and as that was not a live message we may safely assume that it was either forged or invalid! As such I order you to accept my command of this ship, and to remain silent!"

"On what authority do you ignore the Admiral's direct orders?"

"My authority comes from my God, Captain! I need no other!" Philips shrieked. Strachan looked into Philips' eyes, and saw that madness hovering in them.

"Your God be damned! With all due respect religious fanatics have taken enough lives in this war! If you don't step down sir I will be forced to take appropriate action!" Strachan roared. Philips' hand dipped into his holster as quick as a snake, and came up holding his sidearm. He pointed it directly at Strachan's head, and spoke quietly.

"Captain, what action did you plan on taking? Whatever it is I would suggest you complete it before my bullet reaches your eyes," Strachan stood absolutely still, staring at the small gun like a rabbit stares at a pair of headlights, "will you step down?" Philips asked softly. Strachan swallowed, and answered,

"No sir. It is quite clear where your authority comes from sir. Let me tell you, that gun doesn't scare me; I've looked a plasma torpedo in the eye, and I didn't blink. If you think you can force me to do anything, _anything _by the authority of a handgun, then I fear your sanity is most definitely at question."

Philips narrowed his eyes, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet missed it's mark, smashing into Strachan's chest. The Captain collapsed and fell to the deck at the same time as Philips slammed face first onto the floor, his breath knocked out of him by the half-ton of Spartan and armour that hammered into his back in a dive. Fred rolled off the Colonel and pulled the pistol from his grip. He squeezed slowly, and the magnum twisted in his hand, the metal distorting and bending. He threw it aside, and the useless hunk of metal clattered to the deck. The entire bridge was a rush of activity, but the Spartan looked only at the Colonel as he rolled to his feet, wheezing. Standing upright Philips smashed his fist into Fred's face, the blow catching him off guard, and although his shields took the brunt of the blow, he was nevertheless thrown off his feet by the awesome power in the Colonel's arm. Looking wildly around, Philips dashed for the door. It opened as he approached, and he sprinted full-tilt into Will's armoured arm; it didn't budge an inch.

Philips crumpled, unconscious to the floor as Will lowered his arm to his side. He dragged the limp body aside as a repulser-stretcher floated past at thigh speed, Strachan's motionless form on it, headed for the medi-bay.

"Impeccable timing Spartans," Kendra said crisply.

"Well you sounded pretty urgent, so we figured we'd better hurry." Fred replied airily. Marne stepped up onto the command platform as the Spartan spoke.

"Helm, keep us on course for a landing. Keep those shields running hot and charge the point defence just in case. We aren't going to provoke anything, but I'm damned if I'll sit back and let my ship be destroyed."

'Your ship, Acting Captain?" Inquired Kendra.

"Yes Kendra, as of now I am assuming temporary command until such time as Captain Strachan is deemed fit to return to his duties. As for Colonel Philips, well I think it's pretty clear that he's unfit for duty; mutiny, assault and insanity should add up to a pretty interesting sentence once we get him before a court martial. Spartans, get down to the grav lift and make sure everyone's ready for the emergency drop."

Fred snapped a salute, "Sir, yes sir!" He barked, and jogged from the bridge, Will close behind.

"Acting Captain, we are now entering the planet's atmosphere, and I think you should know, the NOVA will detonate in exactly seventeen minutes and fifty four seconds."

"Thank you Kendra. Time, it would seem, is of the essence. Tell the Firewalls to run."

"Yes Acting Captain, telling them now..."

The _Divine Majesty _thundered down through the atmosphere, a huge wall of flame surrounding it. It braked at the last possible moment, and resulting drop in velocity from a headlong descent to a full stop sent a huge wave of air rushing out over the burned landscape, sending massive clouds of dust billowing high into the sky.

The grav lift flashed down through the dust, loaded 'Hogs and Ghosts pouring down it before it even touched the ground. The vehicles touched down, and immediately gunned their engines, pelting flat-out for the destroyed buildings. Upon reaching them the Firewalls leapt from their seats and thundered towards the grav lift that lead down into the underground complex, Fred, Linda and Will in the lead.

"Go straight in!" Kendra shouted to Fred, "I'm still in there, it'll be ready for you!"

Fred heaved a sigh of distress at having to go through the whole thing again, and threw himself into the shaft. He fell for a full three seconds before the soft purple light of the lift flickered on, enveloping him. He looked at the timer in his HUD; 14:37, not long enough.

"Faster Kendra," he urged, "we haven't got much time left."

The AI didn't answer him, but suddenly the bottom dropped out of his stomach, and he plunged into the depths of the planet at eye-blurring speed, slowing only in the last ten feet, to land with jolting force in the familiar chamber. He looked up, and swallowed. Standing there, surrounding him completely, were hundreds of Elites. He stood upright, and sank swiftly into the meditative state through which he could see the emotional fabric of each one.

'_Odd,' _he thought, _' they aren't hostile. Better try my luck if I'm going to get to that bomb in time'_

He walked swiftly forwards in the direction of the door he had to go through. As he approached the Elites stood aside, clearing the path for him. He moved through the crowd, his pace quickening, and still the Elites made no move to stop him. Behind him he heard Linda and Will land in the middle of the chamber, and heard Will swear softly.

"It's okay, they're not hostile - for the moment at any rate. Tell the others not to fire unless fired on. Come on, we've got to get to that nuke."

Fred set off at a dead run, his fellow Spartans close behind him, and the Firewalls, now pouring down the shaft, just behind them. He pushed himself to his utmost limit, sprinting through the high corridors at speeds in excess of 55 kph. His armour, old and battle worn as it was, creaked in protest as he forced it to carry him as fast as it's ageing joints would allow. Doors flashed past, opening as more Elites came through to watch them. They stood silent, lining the route the humans took, as first the Spartans then the Firewalls flew past them.

Fred, seeing the grav lift ahead, slammed his feet into the floor, leaving huge craters, and long dents in the floor. It served to slow him down sufficiently to drop into the shaft and disappear into the purple haze. In the brief respite of the lift he glanced at the timer again; 08:15. They were cutting it pretty fine. He hoped like hell it wasn't _too _fine.

He hit the floor and leapt forward like a hare, running full tilt down the corridors towards the final grav lift. His HUD flashed a nav marker - 3.8 km. Even at top speed it was going to be tight. Distracted by the marker, he failed to see the corpse that lay in his path. His foot caught, he fell forward, and tumbled on down the hall, his helmet slamming into the floor. He lay, stunned, for a few precious seconds before Linda caught up, pausing momentarily to help him to his feet. Will flashed by, ordered on his way by Linda. Fred was back on his feet before the big Spartan had got ten metres down the hall, and was soon at his heels.

Neary's chest heaved, his breath coming hard, as he pushed himself to the utmost limit. Up ahead he saw Fred go flying to the ground, and Linda pause to help him. In that brief moment he gained another fifteen metres on them before they moved on. He was now just a few metres behind Linda, in the rear, and though his legs protested, he pushed himself even harder. He slowly caught the Spartan up. She looked over at him and nodded an acknowledgement. Neary nodded back at her and grinned. He lowered his head and pumped his arms, slowly pulling away from the Spartan. An incredulous gasp from behind him spread the grin even further, only for the sight of the Spartan steaming past him to wipe it clean off.

He grunted with the effort, and pummelled his legs into submission, pumping the last of his adrenaline reserves into them, and slowly regained the lost ground. The Spartan and the Firewall hurtled, neck-and-neck, down corridor after corridor. Neary, impressed with himself though he was, knew full well that his speed was only temporary - he'd pay for this later, but for now, with the adrenaline pulsing through his veins and the feel of the ground beneath his feet, he was loving it.

They rounded a corner, slowing as much as they dared, and looked down the hall in front of them. Up ahead, nearly seven hundred metres down the corridor, he could just make out the gleam of the grav lift.

"Race... you... there," he panted. Linda laughed, and took a huge breath before racing away up the hall. Neary sighed, and sprinted after her. She had the lead, but he was slowly gaining on her. Not fast enough, however, and before he could catch her she had leapt into the lift, mere seconds behind Fred. Neary smiled, then jumped in after her.

Fred shot down the shaft, ever conscious of the little clock in his HUD, gently ticking away the seconds. There was less than two minutes now. He slammed a fist into the side of the shaft in impotent fury, willing the lift to move him faster.

His feet slammed into the ground in the centre of the bowl-like chamber. He bent his knees to absorb the shock, then rose instantly, darting across the chamber towards the small crowd of hunched forms clustered around the nuke. As he approached the Elites stepped aside, and he skidded to a halt beside the large weapon.

"Dammit! I don't know how to disarm this thing!"

"No, but I do. You can make a start at least. The nearest technician is currently on his way down the final lift. You can get it ready for him."

"He'd better hurry, there's only about a minute left. Alright, what can I do?"

Under Kendra's direction, Fred snapped open the cover of the control panel. Inside, buttons and switches lay, blinking softly in the light from the timer. In the middle of the dials a small plastic chamber held a pair of master switches - the keys to arming the bomb. Fred flipped a series of switches, then tapped in a complex series of alpha-numeric code on the various keypads. The chamber popped open, a faint hiss of air indicating that it was a vacuum chamber.

"Great, now flip those two switches."

The armoured finger carefully flicked the switches down, and the panel on which they rested eased itself, levered up out of the chamber. Beneath lay a twisting maze of wires and buttons.

"That's all you can do now Fred. Step back and let the techie do the rest."

Fred backed away from the device, and the technician moved forward to take his place.

"Just cut the blue wire huh?" Fred said, his voice tight.

"Don't even think it - cut any blue wires in this lot and the whole thing will go up."

The techie bent over the bomb, easing clusters of wires aside, and tapping various buttons. At length - twenty whole seconds, only thirteen left - he jerked a small grey wire from it's socket, reached down into the heart of the device, and felt around.

"Shit, where's it gone?" He muttered. Seven seconds. The techie found whatever it was he was looking for, and pulled it up into the light. It was a small switchboard, with a pair of rubber-cased metal contacts on it, a small spike of metal between them. Five seconds. He stripped off the rubber, his hands shaking. Three seconds. He pressed the spike down, leaving a small gap between the contacts. Two seconds. He grabbed the contacts, but his sweaty hands slipped off them. One second. He grabbed the contacts again...

_00:00_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Homecoming - To Whatever's Left

The techie held his breath, his fingers fixed firmly on the two contacts.

"Take the rubber, and slide it in between these two," he said, his voice tight with tension. Fred obeyed, picking up the small slip of rubber that had encased the contact. He carefully slid it between the two strips of metal held in the techie's fingers. The techie gently released his grip, and the two contacts edged together, separated by the thin sliver of rubber. He let out a huge breath, and slumped to the floor, exhausted.

Neary, who'd arrived only moments before the timer counted down, let out a long, low whistle.

"What happened? It finished the count down didn't it? So why aren't we dead?"

"The contacts," the techie said, his voice dull with exhaustion, "if they're live then the bomb goes off - it's a fail-safe, so if they're not connected then the current can't flow - no boom. Now they're safely insulated; that rubber, so we're safe. I'll deactivate it properly in a minute, just gotta get my breath back ya know? Worked up a bit of a sweat."

Neary grinned, then slowly sank to the ground, laying his battle rifle aside and folding his legs under him. Linda, standing behind him, clapped a hand on his shoulder and said,

"Good race - shame you lost, but good race anyway."

He looked up at her as she unfastened the fail-safes keeping her helmet on, and drew it off, shaking out her long mane of blood-red hair.

"How d'you fit all that in there? Short of wrapping it round your head I assume."

Linda smiled at him - an unusual display of emotion for a Spartan, especially one as lone-wolfish as Linda. She didn't answer, him directly, but ran a gauntleted hand through her hair, wincing as her fingers tugged on the tangles.

"I could if you want - might give a chance next time you fancy a race."

"Ha! Gimme some of that armour and I'll whip you next time."

Linda grinned at him, and moved off to talk to Fred, her helmet dangling loosely in her hand. Neary watched her go, watched the sway of her armoured figure as it glided gracefully across the cold metal floor. You had to admire a woman like that - a five-kilometre long sprint and she was barely breaking a sweat, she was gracious enough in victory, and she looked pretty good to boot. Neary caught himself, and shook his head - Spartans were as sexless as a desk, no matter how friendly they got.

Fred looked around as Linda approached.

"Made a friend I see," he said teasingly, "I hope you two can keep your eyes off each other long enough to concentrate on the mission at hand."

Linda slugged him in the shoulder, hard enough to make his shields flare and drop by a quarter.

"Easy, this isn't one of those fancy old Mark VI suits you know."

"Good, and I hope it hurts," said Linda playfully sneering at him elegantly. "You know damn well what we're like when it comes to love - although I've seen you eyeing up your computer friend a few times."

"Well, you can't blame a fella for trying can you." Fred dropped his voice, taking on a mock-conspiratorial tone. "What d'you reckon my chances are with her? I know she's a classy lady, but I can change, and besides, everyone knows the high born ladies always fall for the cheerful common scamp."

"You my friend seriously need to stop watching crappy old 23rd Century movies - we've moved on since the days of romantic nebula cruises you know - especially since the radiation poisoning most of the people that went on them suffered killed them."

"Ah, maybe you're right, maybe I'm just not cut out for love."

They grinned at each other, then drifted over to where the techie was just finishing disarming the NOVA.

Neary's comm. beeped at him, and Acting Captain Marne's voice spoke into his ear.

"Sergeant, I'm guessing from the fact that we aren't all little piles of radioactive dust that you managed to stop that NOVA."

"Yes sir, the bomb is safely disarmed sir."

"Good. As soon as you're done down there I want you and your men to double time it back up here. We've got some problems up here, and we need to get out of here as soon as we can."

"Aye aye Acting Captain. We'll be up as soon as we can sir."

Neary clicked off his comm. link, and jogged over to the group huddled around the NOVA.

"Are we all done here?" He asked the techie.

"Yes sir. All safely disarmed sir. We can transport it out of here safely now."

"Good," said Neary briskly, then turned to Fred.

"Begging your pardon sir, but I've been ordered to get us all topside ASAP."

"Very good Sergeant. Get everyone formed up and we'll move out."

Neary saluted the big Spartan, then turned to the four squads of Firewalls.

"I hope you're not getting too comfy Firewalls," he bellowed, "because we're moving out just as soon as we get this hunk o' junk on to a plate." He tapped the NOVA behind him. "I want everyone formed up and ready to move out double time. Charlie teams seven and eight I want you to deal with the nuke. When we get up there, Alpha you're on point, and Beta you back them up. Charlie you're escorting the nuke, and Delta you bring up the rear. The bomb plate set's the pace, so don't go getting too far ahead. Form up soldiers!"

"SIR YES SIR!" They roared, and the huge underground chamber was suddenly alive with activity, as the Firewalls picked themselves up and gathered any equipment they had dropped. They ignored the Elites that stood around the chamber, simply moving around them if they got in the way. All of a sudden, all activity in the chamber stopped, as everyone heard the distinctive sound of the grav lift. Someone was coming down.

Almost instantly the Firewalls had surrounded the lift, with half of the guns pointing inwards to where anyone would be landing, and the other half pointing outwards, focused on the Elites that still stood motionless around the perimeter of the room.

Fred and Neary stood in the central circle, their guns trained on the lift, and waited. Eventually, they could just make out a figure moving swiftly down the shaft. It rapidly resolved into better focus, and they could see the swirling black cloak that swathed it's whole body.

"Oh no," muttered Neary, "not one of these guys again."

Fred groaned, wincing at the memory of their last encounter with a Sharquoi, then tuned his comm. channel to the universal Firewall frequency and spoke.

"Stand back a bit Firewalls. Keep an eye on those Elites - this one's mine and Sergeant Neary's."

The Firewalls all turned their guns outwards, focusing on the Elites, and slowly moving outwards, widening the circle around the grav lift, where now only the Spartan and the Sergeant stood, their weapons slung, their eyes closed, sinking into the weave as the figure dropped to the floor.

Neary focused intently on the figure, shrouded as it was in the fantastically complex fabric of it's thoughts. He blocked out all other influences in the room - the taught tension of the Firewalls, the restrained anger of the Elites - and concentrated on the Sharquoi, trying to penetrate it's layers of emotion, to perceive it's intentions.

"Peace, humans," the cloaked figure said gently, stepping forward, it's hands outstretched, "we will not harm you now."

Neary stepped forwards towards the creature, wary, but more at ease after this offering of peace. The two stopped a few feet away from each other, and the Sharquoi bowed low to Neary. The Elites, standing around the edge of the room, elevated above the centre as they were, could see this exchange perfectly, and surprise and consternation at this; their holy master bowing to a _human?_

Neary didn't move, just stood, regarding the alien with a calm eye. It straightened up, and he spoke.

"What does this mean? We are at peace? You are freed from your enslavement?"

"No human, we shall never be free. We are slaves until death. Killing the Prophets would do no good - we are slaves of our own disgrace, of our own minds."

"But you are ordered to kill us - why aren't you?"

"Do not speak of such things!" The Sharquoi croaked desperately. His arms twitched forwards, towards Neary's face. Neary didn't flinch, and the eight claws of the Sharquoi's hands flashed forwards... and came to rest gently on his shoulders. The Sharquoi tilted it's head back, and it's hood fell from it's face. It's skin was silvery, translucent, almost ghostly. It had an delicate elongated snout, with a pair of slits that could only be nostrils. It smiled, showing Neary rows of fine, needle-like teeth, and a long, thin, purple tongue. It was a smile almost of friendship, but Neary could see the pain in the deep-set, catlike eyes. He looked down at the thin arms on his shoulders, and saw that they were shaking.

The Sharquoi's smile turned to a grimace of pain. He lowered his shaking arms to his sides, and spoke softly.

"It is all we can do to resist even now. If we were to slip even for a moment you would die." The Sharquoi took a deep, shuddering breath, the slits of it's nostrils flaring. It closed it's glowing golden eyes, tilting it's head back slightly as the air filled it's lungs. "Enough. Be silent." It's voice was suddenly stern, commanding, "We have talked enough. Now you must listen, for our time now is short. We cannot resist must longer; when we fail, you must not be here, for our retribution against our own rebellion will be terrible. Our masters are calling us to battle, and we _will _answer them.

Now if you hear nothing else, hear what we say now. The Covenant is going to war, it is committing it's full strength to it's final goal - Earth. For reasons of their own, the Prophets desire the destruction of your kind, and as their slaves, it is we who will lead the final assault on Earth. Listen now human - _we must fail!"_

"Fail?"

"Our attack on humanity must not succeed! All that matters now to us is our freedom..."

"You said you would never be free."

"Never free from the Prophets' dominion, even were they to die. Our only path to freedom lies in the icy embrace of death."

"What are you telling me?"

"In a matter of hours we will depart for your planet, there to engage your fleets, to end your civilisation. The only hope for both our races is that you get there first. Should we arrive there before you we cannot help but succeed, but if you are there to counteract us there is still a chance.

Go now. Go now and do not stop for anything. We will delay our departure as long as possible, but we cannot give you more than a few hours. That is all you will have to plan and prepare your defence. Go, human, with our blessing."

The ghostly creature raised it's arms again, pulling it's dark hood forward to cover it's face. It stepped backwards into the lift glow, and disappeared, becoming a faint outline heading swiftly upwards. Neary watched it vanish, then seemed to shake himself out of his reverie.

"Move out Firewalls! Earth's headed for trouble, and we've got a duty to protect her. Back to the ship double time!"

"Farewell Kendra. We advise that you spend as much of your time as possible preparing for our next confrontation, for we assure you, it will come, and it will be far more terrible than that which you have already faced."

"Thank you. Before I go, there was one last thing."

"Speak."

"You said there was one who was still in the game. Might I see him?"

'Very well, although we warn you it is not a pleasant thing to behold."

The two consciousnesses were whisked away to the same ethereal plane where they had done battle. Before their eyes appeared a grid of light, far more complex than anything the AI had ever seen. It twisted in every conceivable direction, turning in on itself, and moving through more dimensions than she could count. Flashes of light in every colour imaginable flashed around, through and along the grid, vanishing from one node only to reappear at another. Encased in the centre of the insane maze of light were two figures, one shadowy - a Sharquoi - the other hunched over, clothed in ragged tatters of cloth. The two figures stood barely inches away, their bodies contorting as they attacked and defended.

Kendra reached out with her mind, electrical impulses flowing through the nothingness of the computer network, until she brushed against the hunched figure. Flashes of thought appeared in her mind - the game. Nothing else, just the game; previous battles, future plans, the present conflict. She tried to talk with it, but it ignored her. She timidly tried to delete some of it's files - those relating to the game. The figure in the grid screamed in animal pain, and lashed out at her presence. She gasped at the wild ferocity of his attack, and withdrew.

"It's... it's _horrible." _She whispered. The Sharquoi nodded.

"He is insane, irrevocably maddened by the game. It is all he exists for now. We warned you."

"Yes, yes you did. It was not his mentality that scared me, but the thought that that could have been me. If only I hadn't been angry enough..."

"But you were. Remember that, whatever might have happened, it _didn't. _You are who you are, and you did not succumb to the game. Take comfort from that. Now, you must go."

"Yes, thank you. Until next time."

"We look forward to it."

The _Divine Majesty _rose swiftly through the dull red clouds, leaving a vast roiling furrow in it's wake. The great whale-like head of the ship broke free of the atmosphere, wisps of vapour boiling of it into the vast emptiness of space. On the bridge Acting Captain Marne was being debriefed by Kendra.

"While the Firewalls were down on the planet we received the second half of the Admiral's message. I'll spare you the details, but it seems a temporary truce - more of a cease-fire really - has been forged between the UNSC and the Elites, Grunts and Hunters. The reason for this is unclear, although I believe the Prophets - such as they are now - betrayed the Elites in some fashion, and the Elites' rebellion caused a schism in the Covenant. The Hunters and Grunts sided with the Elites, and the Brutes, Drones and Jackals with the Prophets.

This is not an alliance - far from it; there is far too much mutual distrust and even dislike between human and Covenant forces for such an arrangement to be possible, for the moment at any rate. However, it is the consensus of the UNSC High Command and an Elite known only as the Arbiter, who is acting on behalf of the Elite forces, that the Prophets and their allies pose too great a threat to the survival of all concerned, and furthermore if all three factions were to continue to do war upon each other then the Prophets would emerge victorious. For these reasons the cease-fire was agreed upon, and hopefully we can together defeat the Prophets.

The second message also gives us new orders; we are to abandon all other pursuits and objectives and return to Earth ASAP. Scout ships and deep-space probes have picked up word of a Covenant attack planned against Earth - far greater than that of the Prophet of Regret. The Covenant is throwing it's full weight against Earth, and she's calling everything back to defend her. Don't worry Acting Captain - I have already set us on a direct route for Earth. The fact that the Covenant already know the location of Earth has pretty much rendered the Cole Protocol obsolete, and besides which there aren't any hostile Covenant vessels around to track us anyway."

'_Except the Sharquoi,' _she thought, but brushed it aside - they would find Earth no matter what.

"Very well Kendra. Relay this to all the crew - tell them to get plenty of rest, and be ready for action as soon as we drop out of slipspace."

"Very good Acting Captain."

"Now, on to the unpleasant business. Colonel Philips. Tell me all Kendra."

"It seems the Colonel was victim to acute delusional psychosis. Religious fanatics are never too stable anyway..."

"Fanatics? I knew the man was Christian, but a _fanatic?" _

"Surprising I know - he kept his more fervent beliefs hidden, but nevertheless. Anyway, I digress. Yes, as I said, religious fanatics are never the most stable of people under normal circumstances, and the Colonel's condition was exacerbated by the upgrades he received. The surgical and enhancements the Firewalls received were implanted over a specially designated length of time to avoid such side effects, but the Colonel had his done somewhat... illegally. He was not officially given permission to have the implants done, so he deceived the surgeons into thinking he was down for the procedures, and had them hurry his operation so he would be ready for the firewalls' departure. This decreased time scale lead to the side effects you saw today. Effects which may have been worsened by the stressful circumstances."

"And Captain Strachan?"

"Critical, but stable sir. Thanks to Spartan -104 the bullet went awry of it's target, hitting the Captain in the lower chest region. He has a punctured lung, and several fractured ribs, but he should heal fine, with any luck just in time for our return to Earth."

"Good. I'd hate to have command in such a critical situation. Thank you Kendra. That will be all for now. Get us to Earth as soon as you can - I don't care what you do, just get us there."

"Aye aye sir."

Marne sighed and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. Sometimes he longed for the old days. He could barely remember the times before the Covenant War - he had been only nine when they had begun - but he dimly recalled his home planet; Epsilus Chicanus Seven, a beautiful planet of mountains and lakes in the outer colonies, long since glassed. He had seen it once after it was glassed - his paradise planet reduced to a dirty lump of cracked glass. He thought of his sister, the only relative who had stayed there to die. He couldn't blame her - news of the Covenant had barely reached the planet before they came, and his parents had been two of the few who had fled to Earth before the invasion. Poor Jenny, too young to have a university study-visa, and just old enough to be left alone on Chicanus, had died, carbonised in the bombardment.

He shook himself from his reverie, and turned to the two Spartans who stood rigidly at attention beside him.

"At ease," he said, and the armour clad warriors dropped their salutes, relaxing slightly. "Spartan -104, for your quick thinking in the heat of the moment, and for saving the Captain's life, I offer you my thanks, and those of the rest of the crew. I only wish I could offer more, but I'm afraid we didn't pack any medals." Fred smiled beneath his visor. "Thanks also to you Spartan -043, for diffusing what could have been a very sticky situation. I'm sure the Admiralty will understand and forgive your stiking of a superior officer in the light of the situation."

"Sir, with respect I didn't strike the Colonel. If you examine the holo-records from the bridge security monitor I think you will see beyond any doubt that the Colonel in fact ran into my arm. I took no active part in his incapacitation, and therefore may be considered exempt from any punishment."

Marne smiled wearily. "Very good Spartan. I'm glad that there will be no suspicion cast on your actions. You are both dismissed. Pass on my compliments to your men for their sterling action."

"Sir!" The two Spartans barked, snapping a salute. Marne returned the salute, and the two turned and left the bridge. Marne sighed again, and returned to his command post.

In the _Divine Majesty's _sick bay - alien though it was - medical officer Sam Reyes looked down at the still form of Captain Strachan. He shifted his surgical mask to a more comfortable position, and glanced up at Kendra's small figure hovering in the air above the operating table.

"Scans?"

"The bullet is lodged deep in his lower abdomen. It missed his thoracic cavity by about an inch. He also has four fractured ribs - clean breaks - and a greenstick fracture in his right arm. His intestinal organs have suffered mild stress-bruising, and his right lung is punctured, with a splinter of rib bone still trapped inside. I have already set up the flash-cloning tanks for a lung and spare intestinal organs, should the damage prove to be worse than suspected."

"Thank you Kendra. Right, first things first, let's get that damn bullet out."

Reyes tapped a series of keys on the pad next to him, and the Captain's scans appeared on the inside of his glasses. Briefly noting the broken bones, he focused on the small, discoloured spot in the lower abdomen that was the bullet. He selected a small endoscope from the table of surgical instruments beside him. He carefully opened a small slit in the Captain's stomach. He slid the endoscope in, it's minute camera displaying directly to his glasses, and the ultrasound scanner showing it edging slowly towards the bullet. The 'scope's tiny grippers slid out, claw-like, and seized the tiny slug of metal. Minute cilia split away from the main body of the 'scope, and wrapped themselves around the bullet, their microscopic grip-fibres sinking into the metal. Reyes carefully withdrew the 'scope, gently easing it back through the Captain's abdomen. As he drew it back through the slit in the flesh, a snag in the bullet caught on the skin. He slid it around, trying to free it, but it was hooked on a tiny sliver of cartilage. Sighing, he tapped a button at the base of the 'scope, and a minute scalpel separated from the body, and gently stroked the strip of flesh. It severed easily, and a small stream of blood spurted from the insertion. He pulled the 'scope, complete with bullet, free of the body. He laid the 'scope aside, and quickly inserted the nozzle of a can of biofoam into the slit, sealing up the hole.

"Right, that's the hard part done. Now, let's see about those ribs."

As the surgeon continued his work, the _Divine Majesty _sped on through slipspace, heading for home.

All around the ship, holoscreens were displaying countdown timers. In every room a series of glowing red numbers evenly ticked away the seconds of the _Divine Majesty's _journey. Kendra, barely noticing her constant monitoring of the ship's systems, brooded morosely, searching for things to take her mind off the inevitable conclusion of their journey. In desperate boredom she reconfigured the plasma weapons' firing mechanism, searching for the most efficient configuration. After only a few hundred changes she tired of the process, and created a subroutine to continue the modifications, and slaved it to her higher servers.

She continued along the same path, altering and improving first the shield system, then the engines. Tiring of these routines, she again created slave-subroutines to continue them, and turned her mind to more complex challenges. She ran through the databases on the entire crew and compliment of the _Divine Majesty, _cross referencing all their files and conversation, and modifying their diet and living quarters to suit their needs and desires as perfectly as she could, then ran through all the files on the deceased personnel, compiling reports on their deaths for the Admiralty, writing up messages of condolences for their families, and sorting through their financial records, updating and validating their pension schemes. Again she slaved a subroutine to herself to continue this work.

She sighed with relief - all her multiple routines were taking up sufficient processing power for her to simply sit and do nothing, without boring herself to 'tears'.

She searched through all the feeds from the ship's sensor until she found the room she wanted. Activating the holo-player in the room, she materialised in mid-air. She moved over to the bunk where the sleeping figure lay. She sat cross-legged beside the bunk, and watched the timer counting down.

Sergeant Thomas Neary, Firewall -342 slipped slowly from the bonds of sleep. He blearily opened his eyes, and saw a shining figure sitting in mid-air before him. He sat bolt upright, all drowziness falling from him like water. His eyes snapped open, and saw only light. It faded away quickly, and Neary realised he had been sitting _in _Kendra.

She looked down at him, he looked up at her.

"Yes?" He said, "did you want something?"

"You were dreaming," she said simply, her eyes seeming to look through him.

"I know, I was there." He swung his legs off the side of his bunk, and shut down the enviro-controller that kept his sleeping quarters at optimum temperature. He shivered at the sudden drop in temperature and tugged on his clothes, forgoing his polymer body armour for navy fatigues.

"You were talking too, in your sleep."

"Really?" Neary's eyes looked slightly panicky, "what was I saying?"

Kendra's voice changed, echoing Neary's perfectly.

"No, no, Nat... Natalie, don't, stay back, it'll be fine. Go, go! Get to the shuttle quick, before they... _NAT!"_

Neary stood, frozen, his face drained of colour.

"There was more. Would you like to hear it?" Kendra said softly. Neary didn't answer, and she went on.

"My... my fault, should've done something, should've stopped her, helped her, anything. Gone, she's gone, they're all gone. Help me... _help me!" _Kendra's voice changed back top normal again. "Then you woke up. D'you want to talk about it?"

"No." He said shortly, tugging on his boots, and marching quickly from the room. As he left he glanced back at the timer in his room: 1:34:52.

"All hands this is Acting Captain Marne. We will be emerging from slipspace in ten minutes and counting. Full battle alert from now on. All hands to stations, we will be sealing the pressure doors as we emerge. Get ready, and good luck."

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 118:57:33**

The ship dropped out of the slipstream at a dangerously high level of deceleration. The moment it returned to normal space it's communications array was transmitting data for all it was worth. The spy-ship had been running deep into conquered territory, and had intercepted a Covenant message. Upon deciphering it the ship's captain had ordered them back to Earth at full speed. The message now being sent to the UNSC High Command was simple.

_The Covenant are coming, they'll be here in a few days. Get ready._

**Shipyard/Command Centre Final Redoubt**

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 21:23:16**

The young man walked smartly through the grey metallic corridors, head held high, chest inflated with pride. He glanced down at the gleaming insignia on his shoulders and allowed himself a brief self-satisfied smile. Promoted to lieutenant only a few days ago, he had been honoured with taking a message to the Admiralty. This was clearly the start of great new things for him; he could almost taste his good fortune on the stale, recycled air of the shipyard.

He strode past the marines that stood guard at each checkpoint, barely sparing them a glance as he swept by, his brand new electronic ident tag and security pass clearly visible on his cuff as he held it up to the sensors that would allow him through.

Up ahead he could see the massive double doors that lead in to the Admiralty audience chamber. He paused for a moment to straighten his already immaculate uniform. That would make the brass take notice of him, he thought as he stepped forward with the confident air of one who's certain they are going up in the world.

"Identification and business." Said the guard with practiced boredom. The lieutenant haughtily presented his sleeve, with it's identification chip sewn in to the cuff, and the electronic eyes in the walls and ceiling registered it and beeped a clear to the marine.

"In you go sir," he said, with the lazy salute of a man who has seen, and been unimpressed by much higher ranking officers than this one. The lieutenant ignored the disrespect and swept past him.

He walked confidently through the doors and down into the large ampitheatre-like hall, towards the shadowy, hemispherical table that lay at the focus of the funnel of the room. Gathered around the table was enough brass to make even the cocky young officer falter in his step, and swallow nervously.

'_It's fine - they summoned you, so they must want you here for a reason,' _he reassured himself, and stepped forward into the glare of the spotlights.

"Sirs!" He barked, snapping smartly to attention. Not one of the Admiralty acknowledged him. He stood rigidly at attention, waiting, while the officers argued heatedly.

"No dammit! What if they get caught half way? Both areas would be dangerously under strength, and they could be picked off individually..."

"So we stagger the transfer, keep both at maximum efficient strength, while withdrawing the maximum safe number of..."

"That would still leave the problem of in-flight attack. They would be utterly defenceless, and we could stand to lose a dangerously large number. Not to mention the effect on morale."

One of the admirals looked up finally, and noticed the young lieutenant.

"At ease son," he said, and the lieutenant dropped his salute, but otherwise remained at attention. "Yes?" The admiral continued, motioning for him to speak.

"Sir! Message for you from slipspace monitor station four."

"Thank you," said the admiral, as the lieutenant placed the small holo-cube on the table and stood back. The admiral took the cube, and then returned to the argument. The lieutenant remained standing there. Finally the admiral looked up at him again.

"You may go, lieutenant." The young man's mouth fell open, and he stood, staring in disbelief at the admiral. The older man eventually looked up again, and said,

"You appear to still be here lieutenant." The young man could hardly miss the rebuke in his superior's voice. Burning with shame and humiliation, he turned on his heel and walked, a broken man, from the room. The marine guarding the door saw his slumped shoulders and grinned. He tapped his partner as the lieutenant walked on down the corridor, and nodded to the slumped figure. His partner also grinned,

"Another cocky messenger boy. They never learn."

The lieutenant trudged down the halls back to his post, their laughter ringing in his ears.

Within the large chamber, Fleet Admiral Harper smiled to himself, also hearing the marines' laughter, and turned his attention to the holocube. Inserting it into a small slot infront of him on the table, he watched as it played out it's message to his CNI. The smile left his face, and the blood drained as he heard the message. He turned to Admiral Hood on his right, and silently tapped him on the shoulder. Hood turned, saw the holocube and Harper's face, and immediately tapped the 'cube to play it's message to him.

He too looked increasingly stricken, and as it finished it's message he stood shakily to his feet, calling for silence.

"Gentlemen, the time for discussion is over. I'd like to draw your attention to this message..." and he played it to them through the holo-projectors. A series of large masses appeared over the table, along to an accompanying voice.

"This is slipspace monitoring station four, in orbit around Mercury. We have detected multiple large anomalies in the slipstream..." The message shifted, clearly moving on several minutes. Now the voice was panicky, almost shouting. "...no question about it, the anomalies are clusters of Covenant vessels, approaching our system fast, We currently count forty three clusters, each of approximately thirty ships by our best estimate, but more are appearing all the time. Estimated time to arrival only three hours, probably less..." the message shifted again, and now the voice was shouting, shrieking almost. "...I think that's the last of the clusters - Mother of God there's hundreds of them! I hope to God someone listens to this in time, or we're all royally screwed! Recount of enemy numbers, I'd say there's at least ten thousand! Re-evaluated ETA puts them just two hours away..." the message ended, but the display still hovered above the table; an spectro-analysis of the slipstream, showing hundreds of large distortions. Every man and woman gathered around the table knew what each represented; Covenant ships, and lots of them.

The Admiralty had fallen silent now, to a man. Finally Defence General Geraldine Frye broke the silence.

"Ten... ten _thousand?"_ She whispered, "the fleet at Reach was barely three _hundred!_ Can we defeat a force that size? Do we even have a chance?"

"You should know better than any of us here General," said Hood, "what is status of our orbital defence platforms?"

"Perhaps four hundred around Earth, and another three hundred and fifty in and around the Jovian system, if we're lucky. Any number of ground forces - several million refugees per month make for good recruiting - but they'll be no use. We need ships, not troops. Lord Hood, what is the status of our fleet?"

"At last count we had every ship we have. Some one thousand five hundred, perhaps a few dozen more. These shipyards have done wonders for the fleet, but not enough apparently. We'd need the numbers reversed to have any hope of victory. Even with the... new developments we don't stand a chance. We need a miracle - preferable several - to win this one."

"Well, we'd better hope we get them, 'cause there won't be any other chances for humanity after this one," said Admiral Carter sharply, "the Inner Colonies are all gone..."

"All gone?" Cried Vice Admiral Santos, "since when?"

"Proxima Centauri fell but a few hours ago. I was going to tell you at this meeting, but we got a little... distracted." Santos slumped in defeat; Centauri had been his home planet. Frye put a sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and Admiral Carter spoke.

"Santos, I sympathise with you, I truly do, but we don't have time for this now. We have less than two hours to finalise our defence, and by God it had better be a good one. I suggest we start now."

**Sol System**

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 19:29:42**

The Earth floated in space like a blue-green marble. Forming a dense grid over it at geostationary orbit, three hundred and ninety six Super MAC Stations stood prepared to defend the glittering prize beneath them. At strategic intervals around the grid, the huge plate-like repair stations, each a square kilometre, hovered, ready to sacrifice themselves to defend the MAC Stations. In two large groups, each subdivided into several battle-clusters, the fifteen hundred UNSC warships waited on opposite poles of the planet, waiting to stage one last, hopeless defence.

The UNSC had pulled out every possible stop for this one; every conceivable measure had been taken to gain the giant weapons as many volleys as possible, as the Covenant would soon find out.

Millions of miles in-system, the tiny planet of Mercury spun through space, entirely unaware of the hundreds, then thousands of boiling green lights that appeared around it. The vast Covenant fleet emerged from slipspace, and for a few brief moments lay dead in space as their systems recovered... those moments were all the UNSC needed.

Dozens of carefully placed nuclear space mines detonated. Great globes of fire erupted outwards, carrying with them equally deadly waves of radiation and EMP. Nearly five hundred Covenant ships, frigates, destroyers and even a few cruisers, were vaporised instantly, and several dozen more were disabled by the further-reaching radiation blasts.

Oblivious to this blow, the rest of the Covenant armada powered up, and began to drift out-system with tantalising slowness. As they crossed the orbit of Venus the huge fleet was at extreme weapons range - forty million kilometres. At such distances only the Super MAC rounds had a chance of a hit, and even then a very slight chance, as the targets would have ample time to dodge. This chance, however, was enough.

The orbital defence grid shifted, the four hundred stations drifting around the planet to cluster in one area, facing the Covenant fleet. They fired. Four hundred huge white slugs of metal screamed across the vast distances, and the great cluster of ships shifted.

It opened like a flower, thousands of ships drifting outwards from the centre. A few unlucky ships towards the rear of the formation were struck by the MAC shells, and shattered under the immense stresses - twenty seven kills, but almost all of the shells were clear misses. The Covenant came on.

Watching from the command centre on the _Final Redoubt, _Admiral Lord Hood furrowed his brow in perplexity.

"They could simply jump in-system, end up right under our noses. Why don't they? Are they really that stupid?"

Vice Admiral Santos considered this for a moment before answering.

"Do they need to? As far as anyone knows the best we'll do is scratch them. This way they get where they're going, with comparatively negligible casualties, plus this approach - relentless, unstoppable - is going to play merry hell with our morale."

"Well, let's hope we can make them regret that."

The orbital MAC stations fired off several more volleys, but only managed a few more kills before the fleet closed to easy weapons range - approximately twenty million kilometres.

The four hundred Super MAC guns blazed once more, and their deadly payloads smeared space white as they streaked towards the huge fleet. Reloading as fast as possible, they managed another salvo before the Covenant fleet also fired. Thousands upon thousands of angry red orbs screamed towards the vast battery, and suddenly, the glow surrounding the linear accelerators on every MAC station went dead. The projectiles crossed, and continued towards their targets, the MAC rounds impacting first.

Nearly four hundred Covenant ships flared and died, their hulks drifting lifeless in space, as the first salvo hit home. The huge exchange of velocity and energy sent many spinning into their companion ships, and secondary explosions riddled the fleet, causing the destruction of nearly another hundred ships. The second salvo quickly followed, decimating a further four hundred and fifty ships. One ship - a carrier, nearly two kilometres long - took a shell directly in it's nose. The shield flared and died, and the huge three thousand ton shell hammered into the front of the ship, embedding itself directly in the command deck. The ship bent and flexed under the immense stress, and huge explosions rippled up it's hull, and finally the great ship surrendered. It flew apart, sending white-hot shards of metal scything in every direction.

The Covenant attack, however, was faltering. The great wall of plasma was shivering, wavering, trembling. As they approached the defence grid, small, box-like structure orbiting beside every station, began to glow. They shone brighter and brighter as the plasma approached. Finally, not three thousand kilometres from the grid, the vast wave of plasma broke up, disintegrating into swiftly dispersing clouds of ionized particles. A few, however, remained intact.

They slammed into the stations, melting them away in a matter of seconds. Some twenty MAC stations, the most powerful weapons in the UNSC arsenal, evaporated away like tin foil. The box-structures went dead, their glow fading as quickly the destroyed stations. They were the experimental magnetic field disruptors that the UNSC had mass-produced; a less-effective version of the _Invincible's _main defence system. Created solely to buy time for the MAC stations, they had been overcharged, their circuits melted, rendered useless even as they crippled the first attack.

But they had worked. The MAC stations, their power diverted to the disruptors, came back online, their magnetic coils recharging in seconds. They thumped, and sent their third salvo towards the fleet, even as the Covenant sent their second volley towards the defence grid. Again, nearly five hundred Covenant ships fell to the devastating rounds, but not before they had unleashed their plasma torpedoes.

'_This time,' _thought the Prophet of Supposition, aboard the Covenant flagship of _Angel's Arrow, 'they have no defence now.'_

But he was wrong; the great repair stations, used so effectively so many times before, fired up their engines, streams of energy lancing out from their sides as they drifted down to cover the stations. The vast tide of plasma slammed into the great plates of metal. They vaporised almost instantly, melting away under the thousands of torpedoes, leaving vast swirling clouds of ionizing metal. Most of the remaining torpedoes hit the vapour, scattered, absorbed, and made the haze radiate a hellish orange, but again some hit home. Fifty six of the giant stations twisted and melted away, the hundreds of personnel on board charred alive. When the glow of the plasma died away all that was left of them were floating hunks of wreckage.

The remaining three hundred and twenty MAC stations, acting on time bought with the sacrifice of so many lives, shuddered again, sending pinpoints of death flying through space. Several of the shells were clear misses, but most hit home, sending a further three hundred Covenant vessels to their doom.

Red lights glimmered along the thousands of remaining ships' lateral lines; plasma collecting, preparing for another salvo, a devastating attack that would obliterate the now-defenceless MAC stations.

But something was happening to the cluster of stations; they were moving, their engines flaring at almost-meltdown temperatures, drifting as fast as possible around the Earth, moving away from the fleet to the far side of the planet. The fleet fired, and for the third time a great wave of angry red plasma screamed across space, heading for the retreating stations.

Commander James Davies thrust himself out of his command chair in helpless frustration.

"How much further until we reach the safe zone?" He asked.

"Another twelve seconds sir," replied his nav officer, "however, at our present velocity the plasma will overtake us in ten."

"Can we go any faster!" He shouted at his navigations officer.

"Sir if we go any faster the engines will melt! The coolant is already failing..."

"Venting primary coolant in ten," interjected the station ops lieutenant.

"Wait, belay that. Vent if from the rear exhaust pumps."

"Aye sir, venting now. Primary coolant away, pumping in secondary."

"Sir!" Yelled the nav officer, "increase in speed! We've picked up a few extra kps!"

Davies strode over to the nav display, and stared at the hundreds of tiny nav markers creeping with agonising slowness around the planet. Of course, they were in fact moving at several thousand kilometres per hour, but still the great plasma tide was catching them. He looked for his own station - the _Washington_ - and found it near the front, and slowly moving ahead of it's companion stations. His manoeuvre with the coolant had paid off - the great spray of pressurised coolant had fired them forward with such force that it had noticeably increased their velocity.

"How much further now?"

"Another five seconds, plasma in six."

_Five... four... three... two... one..._

"We... we made it sir! The plasma is, well, look at the view screen!"

Davies looked up at the view screen - the rear camera display, and a video-feed from an orbital satellite. The camera showed the hundreds of fleeing MAC stations, outlined in red fire as the wall of plasma boiled towards them. The satellite feed showed each stations as nothing more as a small dot, and the huge wall of plasma as a thin red line.

As the commander watched, the line overtook the first of the dots. He looked in horror at the rear camera, just in time to see first one, then two, then more and more of the huge stations recede into a wave of plasma. The giant hulks of metal began to glow, first a dull orange, then yellow, then white hot. They distorted, twisting out of shape as they melted away. Clouds of superheated vapour lasted from the molten pools of metal as great gouts of atmosphere were expelled from the stations.

The expanding clouds of ionizing metal vapour vanished into the great wall of plasma. More and more stations were enveloped, and melted away in a few seconds. Davies could almost _hear _the agonised screams of the brave men and women on board as their flesh was melted off their charring skeletons.

"Mother of God," he whispered in horror. The scale of the destruction was almost inconceivable. He almost couldn't believe that they were safe, the searing wave was so close. He glanced at the satellite feed, and realised with horror that it was only a few dozen kilometres away.

Then, as he watched, the vast curving edge of the atmosphere rose up between the station and the plasma. The ruby teardrops shifted to follow the stations... and came into contact with the atmosphere. Ionizing particles flared, creating a huge aurora that lit up the sky for thousands of miles over Earth. The plasma spread like a curtain over the sky, thinning, and finally dying out. The cooling, condensing remains of the destroyed MAC stations veered towards the Earth, and fell in a deadly rain towards the surface.

Everyone on the bridge of the _Washington _collapsed slightly in relief, their shoulders slumping, their heads drooping. Davies ground his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"How many made it?" He asked in a weary voice.

"Scanning sir," replied the nav officer, "I'm showing signals from... thirty two... sir..."

The lieutenant's voice faded into silence, and the bridge crew fell deathly silent. _Thirty two! _From four hundred? The pride and joy of the UNSC, gone, in a matter of moments. Davies wiped a patina of cold sweat from his brow, and shivered with horror. With almost all the MAC stations gone, and still more than eight thousand Covenant ships remaining, as far as Davies could tell, they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell.

The holocomm buzzed, and a face appeared in the air above it, resolving itself into the grizzled features of Admiral Lord Hood.

"This is Hood to all ships and stations. Commence phase two immediately. May God be with you all."

The holo blurred and faded, leaving the bridge of the _Washington _silent once more. Commander Davies broke it.

"Well, you heard the man. Lieutenant, initiate the appropriate vectors."

"Huh, easy for _him _to say, safe in his bloody shipyard," muttered the ops officer. Davies turned slowly to face him, his face as grim as death.

"Lieutenant, before you say _one more word, _just ask yourself one thing - do you honestly think for one second that he'll be safe there? Really? All that stand between him and the Covenant now are Earth's defences, and right now they don't look in that good shape do they?"

"No sir," replied the lieutenant, shamefacedly.

"Good. Now return to your post. We have work to do. Comms, link us up to Virgil."

Insubstantial as a thought, he floated in space. His arms were the waves that linked the metal behemoths that sailed through the void. His mind was nothing more than a tiny crystal, stored deep in the bowels of the planet beneath him.

His task was simple - become the fleet. Defeat the enemy. He had done it before - the Covenant task force that had invaded the Kuiper belt was now no more than drifting scrap. He watched as the battle was joined. He saw the great cluster of MAC stations melted away as though they were no more than wax. He felt a brief sadness for the humans who died aboard them, not to mention his companion AIs.

He flexed his vast intellect as the great fleet linked themselves to him. He _felt_ himself grow, their bodies becoming his. As each one came online he assessed them, their strengths and weaknesses, their damage, their weapons. After only a few seconds, the entirety of Earth's defence fleet was at one with him - the ships, and the remaining stations, all answered to him.

He was Virgil, and he was ready.

"Virgil," began Admiral Hood, "estimation of how many passes we'll have before they force us into phase three?"

"Based on their current rate of advance," a large holo-display appeared above the conference table, showing a three dimensional image of the Covenant fleet, Earth, and it's defences as seen by multiple probes and satellites within the system, "and also on the speed of orbit of the remaining MAC stations, I would say we have time enough for one safe pass, but after that we will be forced to engage - they'll be far too close for any other strategic option to be feasible."

"Very well Virgil. Do what you must."

The thirty two remaining MAC stations were still moving, hurtling round the Earth, picking up speed from the gravitational boost. They were headed towards the single largest fleet mankind had ever created.

Roughly one thousand five hundred ships lay dormant, waiting for their signal. The fleet was divided and subdivided into so many different small battle-groups that only the AIs in the fleet could keep track of them. Each battle-group consisted of one carrier - it's complement of Longsword fighters buzzing around it like drones around a hive - two cruisers, three destroyers and four frigates. As the MAC stations approached, the engines of the fleet flared to life, humming with sudden power, as the ships began to move.

Each battle-group was assigned a unique orbital path that would carry it safely around the planet. If Kendra had been there to observe the battle, the pattern formed by the flight paths of the groups would have been eerily reminiscent of the grid upon which she had fought the Sharquoi.

The small cluster of MAC stations swung around the curve of the atmosphere to face the vast armada once again, slightly ahead of the rest of the fleet. They turned gently as they hurtled around their orbits, facing along vectors pre-set by Virgil. Each one fired as it reached the zenith of it's orbit, and the three thousand ton shells flew straight and true towards the largest visible ships - the flagships.

One shell screamed through space, headed straight for the Covenant flagship directly in the centre of the formation. The impact took the ship slightly aft of the prow, the shields flaring and swirling like the northern lights. In an instant, they dissolved, melting away under the immense stresses, and the round tore through, hammering through the thick battle-plate like thin ice. It punctured through the many decks, carving a vast diagonal slash through the ship's structure.

The ship listed to port, gouts of vapour blasting from it's sides as the atmosphere within the ship decompressed explosively. As the flagship's bulbous nose collided with a second ship - a cruiser - the second set of shields flashed like lightning before giving way to the thousands of tons of moving metal. The cruiser, with unbelievable force, crushed straight through the engineering decks, crippling the engines and severing the power conduits. The reactors went into meltdown almost instantly, small explosions tearing chunks out of the cruiser as the power spike surged through the ship. The reactors finally failed, and the ensuing explosion, engulfed and destroyed several nearby ships.

Similar scenes of chaos could be seen as thirty one other flagships fell to the MAC station's devastating fire, but there were still hundreds more, completely unscathed. The Covenant fleet reeled from the vicious attack, milling around in disorder for a few precious moments, during which the MAC stations made good their escape, hurtling around the planet to the safety of the far side.

As the Covenant recovered, regaining their formation, the human fleet appeared around the edges of the planet, forming a ring of metal around the outer edges of the atmosphere. They too orbited the globe at full speed, each battle-group reaching the zenith of their orbits at slightly staggered intervals. As each one did, they turned to face the enemy.

The ships jolted, sending the heavy shells flying across space. Virgil, from his virtual position among the stars, calculated and recalculated the firing paths of each, even as they flew. He smiled in satisfaction at the results of his efforts; no ship fired a wasted shell.

The carriers of each group were equipped with a devastating arsenal of three MAC cannons each - they concentrated their fire on the larger Covenant vessels, the carriers and cruisers. Their three cannons flared in quick succession, the first shell weakening the shields, the second bringing them down and the third smashing through them, leaving them nothing more than floating junk.

The destroyers and cruisers, each one paired with a frigate, concentrated their fire on the smaller vessels, the Covenant destroyers and frigates, and unleashed a devastating salvo. Group after group reached the apex of their orbit, sending their shells screaming towards the gleaming purple ships, then racing back around the rear side of the planet.

The attack was so swift, so devastating, that the Covenant barely even had time to react; even as they turned to deliver a broadside, the last of the human battle-groups released their volley. The alien fleet released their vast salvo of plasma, which raced towards the fleeing battle-group, but too late; the group vanished to safety behind the Earth, and the great wave of plasma dissipated harmlessly in the upper atmosphere. The chaos died, leaving nearly eight hundred and fifty lifeless vessels floating in space.

Virgil grinned, or rather initiated the emotional subsystem that simulated a grin. It was the work of a moment to reassess the velocity of every individual Covenant ship, process the speeds and orbital paths of the human vessels, formulate an effective strategy for the next engagement, then endless lists of contingency plans to cover any eventuality.

It was the work of another moment, having done that, to realise that the human defence was doomed.

The human vessels continued in their orbits, swinging round the planet once more at their highest possible speeds; time was precious, and for phase three of the defence, speed was essential. The thousands of Covenant ships picked up their speed, hastening towards Earth. Virgil reassessed his stratagems one final time, then submerged himself completely in the processes of the fleet, taking absolute control.

Commodore Joseph Collins, commanding officer of the _UNSC Unrelenting, _the largest carrier in the fleet, and the flagship of battle-group seven, slumped back into his command chair.

"She's all yours Virgil. Command crew, stay ready for any eventualities."

The four lieutenants of his bridge crew leant back slightly in their chairs, relaxing for a brief moment, before bending over their consoles once more.

"Sir, receiving our instructions now," called Lieutenant McKnight, "patching them through to you now."

Collins looked down at his command console, and saw a small tac-display, showing the Earth, his battle-group, the Covenant fleet and his own flight co-ordinates.

"Lieutenant Nichol, follow this trajectory until we reach the western zenith, then initiate chemical thruster burn to break orbit."

"Aye aye sir. Burn in twelve."

"All hands," said Collins over the ship-wide comm. channel, "brace for full chemical burn in nine seconds."

He sat back in his chair and gripped the arms, just as the burn initiated. The huge ship jolted and rattled, shaking under the enormous power boost of the chemical thrusters. The view ports on either side of him showed nothing but black space, interspersed with a few speck-like stars. As the ship pitched and rolled the stars shivered around in front of his eyes, seeming to smear streaks of milky light across the night.

"Burn complete sir, we have broken orbit and are at full speed."

"Very good Lieutenant. Bring us about to course zero-four-zero, inclination twelve point seven and hold her steady."

"Aye aye sir."

As the ship moved it's great bulk about, the commodore punched up the rear-view cameras and watched his battle group fall into place. The _Unrelenting_ was at the fore, with the cruisers slightly behind and off to either side, and the destroyers above and below, forming a ring. The four frigates fell neatly into place within the ring and behind the huge carrier.

Collins gazed at it, uncomprehending, for a moment, before the realisation struck him - his own ship, and the destroyers and cruisers, had formed a funnel, and the frigates within were going to use their better defended brethren as shields and fire from within the funnel.

A proximity alert caught his attention, and he enlarged the rear view. Behind his own battle group, more and more were falling in. The carriers, destroyers and cruisers forming ever-larger concentric circles behind one another, and the frigates filling in between them. Finally, fully a third of the fleet was in place behind him; the sense of power was giddying to say the least.

He called up the starboard camera display, and saw to his amazement that another such funnel was forming up; another third of the fleet that had emerged from the eastern side of the globe. The other funnel was ponderously changing direction, moving on to a course that would intercept his own.

"Ares! What's going on? We're on a direct collision course!"

The ship's AI spoke softly, soothingly.

"Don't worry Commodore. I have been receiving communications from Virgil. He assures me that everything is going according to plan, and that we must hold this exact course."

The AI shivered to life on the pedestal in front of him. It was a man, clad in a white toga, with a crown of oak leaves on his head.

"In fact Commodore," it went on, "to break formation and take another course would do far more harm than good, and would be considered direct violation of orders from a superior officer."

"Thanks you Ares. A simple 'everything's fine' would've done."

The two great formations, each consisting of five hundred ships, hurtled towards each other at diagonals. Collins watched the opposite formation approach with mounting apprehension.

"Sir, only seventeen thousand kilometres to impact! Four seconds sir!"

Collins shut his eyes, pressing himself back into his chair, counting the seconds in his head. _Three... two... one... zero._

He heard Lieutenant Nichol let out a low whistle.

"Now _that _is just showing off," she said, her voice nevertheless betraying the fact that she was deeply impressed. Collins opened his eyes, and looked out of the viewport again, to see a huge cruiser rushing towards him. He flinched, but kept his eyes fixed on it; the great metal ship seemed to pass right through his own.

Puzzled, he looked down at his console. The tac-display showed the tiny markers of the hundreds of ships simply passing through each other.

"Lieutenant Nichol, what exactly is happening?"

"Check the external cameras sir - the rear ones particularly; we've cleared the fleet now."

Collins looked at the rear-view camera, and saw a sight that dazzled him; the two great cones of ships were literally passing through each other, the ships of one flashing between the ships of the other, exploiting the gaps in the formation. It was a beautiful piece of astrogation, and, Collins was sure, more a method for Virgil to show off (as Nichol had stated) than for any real tactical advantage.

He smiled; if super intelligent computer constructs couldn't show of their skills then what was the world coming to?

"Lieutenant Cronin, warm up the MAC cannons, load them with shredder rounds. Remove the safety locks from all Archer missile pods and cycle the disruptor. I want that baby running hot by the time we engage."

"Aye sir. Diverting power from the engines to power the disruptor. Firing solution for the MACs sir?"

"Target this ship _here," _Collins said, tapping a tac-marker on his console, highlighting the vessel; a Covenant cruiser.

"Sir!" Cried Lieutenant Millan, "They're preparing for another salvo... plasma away! Impact in seven seconds!"

"Stay frosty Lieutenant. Virgil has us covered. Lieutenant Nichol, fire dorsal emergency thrusters in four."

"Aye sir," _three... two... one... _"firing!" A colossal _BANG _rattled the whole ship, blasting it down it's vertical axis. The bridge crew - those that weren't strapped down - floated in freefall for a few moments before sinking to the floor. Collins looked at the rear-view camera again, and whistled his astonishment; the entire funnel was blasting apart, the hundreds of ships firing their emergency thrusters, and the stream of plasma, unable to react quick enough to track the hundreds of moving targets, was flowing harmlessly down the middle of the formation.

"Bring us back to original bearing if you please Lieutenant Nichol, and give me an ETA at their formation."

"Aye sir, calculating... approximately fourteen seconds sir."

"Good. We'll be in among them before they can reload. Lieutenant Cronin, on my mark, fire the MACs... _mark!" _The ship juddered three times, sending it's three huge shells flying towards their target. Watching from the forward viewport, Collins could see the hundreds of rounds from the rest of the fleet streak past the _Unrelenting. _He could still just pick out his own shells, even up to the moment of impact.

These were not the standard heavy MAC round previously utilised by the fleet, these were recently developed, originally for use by the _Pillar of Autumn._ After seeing the stunning success that vessel had against the Covenant, the UNSC High Command had ordered their use in all vessels. They consisted of a ferrous core, with an outer layer of tungsten carbide. It would still cause the same impact damage, but the outer shell would shatter, causing significant damage to all nearby vessels.

The _Unrelenting's _salvo impacted. The cruiser's shields flared at the first round, razor sharp fragments of the shell flying out in all directions, causing the shields of several other ships to swirl. At the second round the shields buckled, the round penetrating into the superstructure of the ship a little way; a cloud of debris, both MAC fragments and parts of the ship itself, blasted from the hole left by the round. The third round hammered into the ship, the super-dense core punching clean through it. It was the outer shell, however, that really did the damage; huge splinters of metal tore the interior of the ship to shreds, annihilating the reactors.

A huge wave of energy flashed out from the cruiser as it's reactors overloaded. Three nearby ships' shields flared and died in the huge detonation. All around the _Unrelenting's _target, more and more ships were being torn to shreds. Suddenly, Collins realised that the salvoes from the human fleet were being staggered - they were all firing into a narrow target zone, but repeatedly. Effectively, the humans were cutting a path right through the Covenant fleet.

"Lieutenant Cronin! Ready all Archer pods to fire on all unshielded targets as we pass by!"

"Aye sir! Ares, firing solutions now!" Streams of numbers flooded across Cronin's console, and one after another Covenant vessels were highlighted - those with no shields. Collins looked out of the forward view port, and saw to his pleasure that a huge swathe had been cut through the Covenant fleet - almost completely free of debris, thanks to the numerous reactor failures that had scoured the space.

The _Unrelenting _shot into the breach, the five hundred ships of it's formation close behind.

"Sir! They're readying for another volley!" Called Lieutenant Millan.

"Lieutenant Cronin, run the disruptor now! Full power. Keep those Archers ready to fly and fire at will when we reach optimal range."

"Aye sir, running. Sir, our disruptor isn't nearly sufficient to disable an entire salvo - it can barely do one torpedo!"

"Why else do you think all the larger ships are on the outside of this formation Lieutenant?" Cronin thought for the briefest moment, before realisation dawned. All the larger ships - carriers, cruisers and destroyers - had been outfitted with experimental magnetic field disruptors, like the _Invincible, _only much less powerful. However, with the concentrated disruption created by all the ships in the formation, they might just make it through.

"Disruptor running at full capacity! Archers away sir." Collins looked at the camera feed, just in time to see dozens of points of light streak from his ship, straight towards a Covenant frigate. Fired from point blank, the missiles were far too close for the ship to even employ it's point defence lasers, and the ship, unshielded, didn't stand a chance. The Archers slammed into it, dozens of explosions ripping through the thick armour plating. One of the missiles hit a fault line where the superstructure had been weakened significantly by a ricocheting MAC round, and the whole vessel split down the middle, the two halves drifting apart ponderously.

Motes of red light were collecting along the lateral lines of the intact vessels. They globed together, then streamed out into the void. The plasma flashed towards the human ships even as they sped through the path they had cut, Archer missiles flaring from their sides almost constantly.

"Here we go," muttered Collins, sending up a quick prayer to whoever was listening. The angry red teardrops sped towards them. Suddenly, they began to shiver and waver. The internal temperature of the _Unrelenting _rose sharply as, barely a few hundred yards from her prow, the plasma dispersed and faded. All down the great formation hundreds of plasma torpedoes were dying in their tracks.

However, some got through - the experimental disruptors, temperamental at best, weren't enough to stop them all. Dozens of ships were hit, large sections of them melting away. Many of those hit detonated, their reactors or ammunition stores causing huge explosions, each of which took down several nearby ships.

"Ten seconds until we clear their fleet sir," Lieutenant Nichol informed him. Collins looked down at his console as fresh instructions flowed across it.

"Lieutenant Millan, order all our Longswords to launch as we clear the fleet, I want those birds out as soon as we are. Lieutenant Nichol, kill the main thrusters and fire the attitude jets as soon as we clear the formation, bring us around one eighty degrees."

"Aye sir," chorused the two officers. A final salvo of Archer missiles shot from the starboard pods, tearing an unshielded destroyer apart in a hail of high-explosives. The _Unrelenting _smashed through the debris, and cleared the last of the Covenant fleet. Immediately, Lieutenant Nichol cut the power to the main engines, and fired up the manoeuvring thrusters, rotating the ship round to face back at the fleet, and the carrier's squadrons of Longswords began pouring from their launch bays.

"Lieutenant Cronin, MAC cannon status?"

"Hot and ready to flare sir, but I can't get a firing solution - the rest of our fleet is still in the way."

"Just wait Lieutenant. Start recharging the disruptor while we can. Lieutenant Nichol, give me partial burn, I want to cut our speed by a third."

"Aye sir."

Collins gazed at the viewport, watching the rest of his formation stream from the midst of the Covenant fleet. As it emerged, the great funnel opened out, spreading across the sky. The final ship emerged, it's dorsal structure half-melted by plasma fire. Suddenly, Virgil's voice blared over the speakers of every ship, his tone urgent.

"All hands look away from the Covenant fleet, say again, _look away!" _Collins squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away from the fleet, just as a brilliant light erupted in the middle of them. Despite his closed eyes, and the polarised viewports, the light was still almost unbearable. When it faded, he opened them again, glaring spots still clouding his vision. As his eyes focused again, he saw the true genius of Virgil's plan.

The human fleet had cut through the Covenant on a diagonal, effectively slicing off a corner of their formation. As they had passed through, one of the ships must have launched a NOVA warhead into the centre of the isolated section. He assumed that the second formation had done the same on the opposite side of the Covenant fleet.

"Collins to all Longswords. Move to engage all vessels on the starboard side of the breach. _Unrelenting _to all ships in Alpha fleet, engage all ships on the starboard side of the breach; bring down their shields, the Longswords will finish them off. Pick your targets, co-ordinate your fire - we can't afford to waste a single shell.

Lieutenant Cronin, target this vessel," highlighting a destroyer, "and fire two rounds - we only want to take down it's shields. Knife Three-Six, move alpha squadron in and finish it off." The commodore sat back, and watched the tiny spots of light that were his alpha Longsword squadron race towards the destroyer in a perfect chevron formation. The _Unrelenting _shuddered twice, sending twin bolts of metal racing towards the vessel, straight over the heads of the Longswords.

"Whoa there!" Came the voice of Knife Three-Six, "nearly gave us all haircuts Collins!"

"Sorry about that Knife. Be warned - there's gonna be a whole lot of shrapnel coming out from those hits."

"Roger."

The fighters slowed suddenly, just as the MAC rounds hit. Great clouds of shrapnel were flung outwards as the shields failed. The slowed Longswords were able to nimbly dodge it, and returned to the attack.

Wing Commander Emily Stewart pulled her bird back on course, at the head of the chevron formation. Glancing from side to side, she nodded with satisfaction; the rest of alpha squadron were tight on.

"Seraphs incoming, dead ahead," said her co-pilot.

"Roger that. Alphas, up-and-over!" Acknowledgement lights winked on the control console in front of her, and the squadron snapped into action. Her port wingmates rolled to the left, away from her, her starboard wingmates to the right. She pulled back on her stick, and felt the 'Sword pull up, flashing over the incoming Seraphs, even as her wingmates rolled to either side of the jewel-like fighters.

"They're pulling round boss, I'd say we've got about twenty seconds before they're all over us."

"Roger that. Two-Six to all alphas; full speed towards that destroyer. Drop the missiles as we pass it, then swing round and take out those Seraphs." Again the lights blinked, but her second spoke up.

"There's quite a few of them there boss - like two dozen. We might need some help on this one."

"Copy that, I'll call them in as we pass."

Alpha squadron flipped open their intake ports, and their afterburners flared to life. The five angular fighters shot forward, heading directly towards the unshielded destroyer.

"Boss, I'm picking up energy signals from the target; their shields are recharging, we'd better make it quick."

"Copy that co, I'm on it."

The fighters spread out of their chevron, forming a line. The squadron angled up slightly, aiming just over the Covenant vessel. They shot over the top of the destroyer, releasing a swarm of ASGM-10 missiles as they did so. Thirty arrow-like missiles flashed down, spearing through the thick battle-plate. A chain of explosions rippled up the destroyer, just as the ship's shield recharged.

The great billowing clouds of flame rocketed up from the ship, hit the inside shields and reflected back, effectively doubling the force of the explosion.

"Perfect timing alphas," Stewart complimented her squad, before opening a channel to beta and charlie squadrons. "Knifes One-Seven and Zero-Four, we've got roughly two-dozen Seraphs on our tails. We could use some cover, over."

"Do my ears deceive me Two-Six? The great Emily Stewart asking for help?" Came the teasing voice of Knife Zero-Four.

"Just get your sorry arses over here already, or I'll fill your mouth with my boot."

Zero-Four chuckled. "Roger that Two-Six, we're on our way." One-Seven only blinked an acknowledgement light. Stewart pushed her bird into a steep dive, rolling it underneath the exploding destroyer. Her wingmates followed, pulling into the chevron again. As they pulled out from beneath the destroyer she could see the swarm of Seraphs racing towards them.

"Open up boys!" She yelled, and pressed down on her trigger. The 110 mm rotary cannons spat hot lead at the incoming fighters, her four wingmates doing likewise. Five Seraphs' shields flared, the huge rounds chipping away at them. The scarab-like fighters returned fire, bolts of plasma streaming towards alpha squadron.

The five 'Swords instantly broke formation, wheeling and rolling out and away from the plasma. Even as she spun her bird sideways, Stewart depressed the firing studs and let loose a cluster of missiles towards the nearest Seraph. Five plumes of exhaust fumes marked their passage as they closed in on the desperately rolling Seraph. The twisting fighter detonated in a hail of debris.

Stewart punched the air in triumph, just as alpha Two-Nine hailed her desperately. "Two-Six! Two-Six! I've got three of them on my tail, and I'm having a tough time shaking them!"

"Roger that Two-Nine, hang in there, I'm on my way." Stewart flipped her stick over and plunged her bird into a steep bank. As she swung round she caught brief glimpses of the action; Two-Seven looped behind a pursuing Seraph, opening up with his cannon as he pulled in behind it, the huge round shredding into the fighter, and a great cloud of purple blood exploding out the front. Two-Eight barrel rolled, skilfully avoiding the twin blasts of plasma that flashed beneath her spinning wings.

"I'm on you Two-Nine," she called as the beleaguered Longsword came into view. Two-Nine was ducking and rolling constantly, trying to avoid the enemy fire. Even as Stewart lined up her cannons, a bolt of plasma splashed across Two-Nine's wing, melting away a large patch. The 'Sword dipped and bucked as the control went wild, spinning the fighter furiously.

Stewart fired off a volley of missiles at the Seraph who had hit her wingmate, and it went up in a great gout of flame. She shifted her stick, and opened up on the second with her cannon. The shields flared, draining bit by bit.

"Come on!" She growled in frustration. As the fighter's shields died, another bolt of plasma hit Two-Nine in his port engine. The engine detonated, blowing a great chunk out of the port wing, and throwing the 'Sword even more off-balance. Stewart's cannon ripped the Seraph apart, splitting it down the middle.

"I'm hit!" Screamed Two-Nine, as a whole stream of plasma sprayed across the front of his bird, melting away the glass of the viewport. The atmosphere inside the tiny craft blasted out, carrying with it, barely visible, a pair of charred and melted bodies.

"_TWO-NINE!" _Stewart screamed, gazing helplessly at the two burned bodies as they drifted away into space. "All right you son of a bitch, you're going _down!"_ She spun her 'Sword about again, lining up the nose with the third Seraph's flank, flying towards it at full speed. She slammed down the trigger, and the great cannon roared, sending leaden death speeding towards the Covenant fighter. The shields, already weakened by the explosions of it's two companions, flared and died almost immediately, and Stewart's bullets sliced into the fighter, tearing it to pieces.

She must have hit the main drive conduit, because a sudden explosion ripped the Seraph clean in two, and sending a cloud of debris out in all directions. Stewart slammed her stick over, and the Longsword angled over by ninety degrees, flashing through to gap between the two halves, debris pinging off it's hull.

"Look out boss, we've got one... two, no four of them bearing down on us, coming up on our six," cautioned her co-pilot.

"Roger that," then, switching channels, "I need some help people, I've got tangos on my six. Dammit Zero-Four, where the hell are you!" Suddenly, two of the four Seraphs on her tail went up in a pair of explosions. Five Longswords, as welcome as miracles on wings, came streaking out of the cloud of debris left over. Their cannons spat, hammering into the other two Seraphs, then smashing them apart.

"Say no more Two-Six," came the voice of Zero-Four, "but you owe me for this - big time."

"Smug bastard," she called back, relief dripping from her every word, "trust you to show up after everyone else has done all the work and claim all the glory for yourself!"

"Hey, are we fighting or bitching here?" Stewart clicked off her radio, shaking her head with a wry smile. She pitched her 'Sword over, drawing up beside the rest of her squadron. The twelve remaining Seraphs were heading towards the main Covenant fleet, and alpha and beta squadrons were hot on their tails.

"We've gotta get them before they reach that fleet people!" Stewart called as she snapped off another volley of missiles, which speared across space and hammered into a Seraph.

"Just keep on them Two-Six," replied Zero-Four, "we've got a little surprise in store for them." Stewart had no idea what he meant, but she trusted his word, and kept her bird flying for the fleeing Seraphs.

"We haven't got much time left Zero-Four, if you're gonna surprise..." Stewart stopped speaking mid-sentence as charlie squadron, One-Seven in the lead, flew seemingly out of nowhere, intercepting the Seraphs, and destroying seven in the first few seconds of combat. The remaining four tried to double back and escape the 'Swords, but alpha and beta squads were too close on their tails, and mopped them up swiftly.

"Thanks for the assistance One-Seven," called Stewart.

"Did you think I'd let you guys have all the fun?" He replied, "come on people, we'd better get back to the fight - those capital ship idiots will be helpless without us."

"Roger that," Two-Six and Zero-Four laughed, before marshalling their squadrons and turning back to the isolated Covenant ships - now severely decreased in number.

"Boos, look!" Cried Two-Eight. Stewart turned to face the direction his nav-marker had indicated, and saw a sight that made her heart leap with joy; two hundred and fifty capital ships - half of the reserve fleet that hadn't been in the funnel formations - was coming up on the beleaguered Covenant vessels from the Earth-side. Pincered between the reinforcements, and the initial attack force, the Covenant ships didn't stand a chance.

"Not a moment too soon either," murmured Stewart, putting a nav-marker in the direction she was looking. The rest of the huge Covenant fleet had split in two, the two halves moving to engage the now severely outnumbered human ships. The isolated Covenant ships were now almost all destroyed - only a handful remained intact, and of those only two were still active enough to return fire. As she watched, dozens of MAC rounds streaked across the sky from the human vessels. The last of the Covenant vessels went down, drifting lifeless in space.

Stewart ordered her squadron to fall in behind her, and headed back to the _Unrelenting _to re-arm before heading out again to take on the rest of the Covenant fleet.

**Sol System**

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 12:17:53**

Commodore Collins wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked up.

"Damage report," he ordered, he voice still shaken from their last encounter. Lieutenant Millan tapped a few commands into his console, then looked up at the commodore with a pained expression on his face.

"Hull breaches on decks seven through nineteen, armour in the port side down to eleven centimetres, starboard side only nine. Half our point-defense cannons are offline, the best we can hope for from the engines is somewhere just shy of seventy percent. Archer pods A3 through to D5 are cold - Lieutenant Cronin will have to re-key the system, We have enough Archers in the other pods for two more volleys.

Here's the really bad news; the disruptor is shot to hell; the circuitry has completely melted, and the second MAC gun is offline."

Collins sighed. "Lieutenant Cronin, get right on those dead pods, and charge the remaining MAC guns. Only divert power from the engines if you have to; I want to be able to run if necessary. Lieutenant Nichol, number count if you please."

"Aye sir... I'm reading signals from two hundred and eleven active ships sir, with weak signals from an additional eighty or so disabled ships. In the Covenant, I estimate at least five thousand two hundred vessels still intact. In short sir, we're pretty screwed."

Collins sighed again, and slumped back into his chair. "Well, we knew that from the start didn't we. One thing we can be proud of; we gave the bastards a run for their money eh? I'll bet they won't be forgetting this battle for quite a while. The best we can hope for now is to buy some time."

Lieutenant Cronin spoke up. "Buy time for what sir? It's not like reinforcements will be arriving. We're all that's left - we may as well go out with style. I'd rather go down and take a few of them with me than pansy around trying to keep them away." Lieutenants Nichol and McKnight voiced their agreement, and Collins turned to Millan.

"And you Lieutenant?"

"Well, I can't say I'm that eager to die, but hell, seeing as how we're all going to anyway, it might as well be now."

Collins straightened his collar, and swept his hair back from his forehead.

'_Alright, but how?' _he thought, trying to discern a way to both hurt the Covenant and benefit the human fleet.

An idea came to him.

"Virgil," he said suddenly, "I want you to analyse all the communications within the Covenant fleet. Try to ascertain which one is their flagship."

"Very well Commodore, computing." There was a pause of several seconds - an eternity in AI terms - before Virgil replied. "As far as I can tell, this one here is," a tac-marker highlighted a ship near the centre of the Covenant fleet, "or at least, that's where most of the orders are coming from. May I ask what you have in mind Commodore?"

"You'll see Virgil, you'll see. I'm overriding your control over this ship now."

"Very well Commodore, but I would very much like to know what you intend." Collins ignored him for a moment, broadcasting on the fleet-wide channel.

"All ships this is Commodore Collins. It's pretty clear that this battle is all but over now. All we can do now is what we can.

All ships with functioning disruptors assemble at rally point echo. All others assemble at rally point kilo. Those without disruptors are going to stage a distraction, attacking the Covenant from the Earthward side of their fleet, you'll be supported by the remaining MAC stations.

All those with disruptors, we'll be staging an assault on the Covenant flagship in an effort to disrupt their battle capability." As he killed the channel, another opened, and the face of Admiral Carter appeared in the holo-display.

"Commodore, would you mind telling me what the hell you're up to? On what authority do you intend to do this?" The Admiral was cut off by Lord Hood's voice, and the man's grizzled face appeared beside Carter's.

"On mine Admiral. Commodore, you have my full permission to carry out this procedure. May I say it shows the best in all of you, and may God be with you all."

"Thank you Admiral," replied Collins, before shutting off the channel and turning to his bridge crew. "Lieutenant Nichol, get us to rally point echo as fast as you can. Lieutenant Cronin, keep all our weapons running hot. Lieutenant Millan, order all our Longswords to launch immediately - how many do we have left by the way?"

"We're down from two hundred to forty two sir. You might like to know that each and every one of our lost fighters more than accounted for their loss before they died. I'm reading several hundred confirmed enemy fighter kills, not to mention several dozen capital ships, from our fighter compliment."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from those guys - finest damn pilots in the fleet."

"Aye aye sir," agreed Millan emphatically, "Longswords away, flying patrol around us."

"ETA to rally point echo two minutes sir," Lieutenant Nichol informed him. Collins looked around the bridge, taking in his surroundings while he could; they weren't the best he'd ever seen. The bridge of the _Unrelenting _hadn't been particularly aesthetically pleasing, and since the beginning of the battle they'd taken a serious beating. Three display screens lay shattered on the floor - their operators had been taken to the medical bay with severe lacerations from the glass. Exposed electrical wiring was sparking, and several bulkheads were twisted out of shape - evidence of one of Collins' more drastic manouevres; with all the MAC guns charging, and the Archer pods reloading, he had ordered Lieutenant Nichol to ran an unshielded Covenant frigate.

"Two months," he murmured.

"Sorry sir?" Questioned Lieutenant Nichol.

"Oh, nothing Lieutenant, nothing." Two months. That was how long he'd been in command of the _Unrelenting._ Fresh from the seige of Mamore, he'd been promoted to Commodore for his outstanding conduct in the heat of battle. He'd scored seven Covenant kills with his destroyer the _Blackfoot, _had commanded, from the bridge communications hub, the combat teams that repelled nearly two hundred boarders and had managed to evacuated close to a thousand citizens before the Covenant glassed the planet. Following his promotion he had been placed straight in charge of the carrier.

"Sir, rally point echo reached. Whatever we're going to do, I suggest we do it now - the others have engaged the fleet, but they don't know how long they can hold their attention for."

"Very well Lieutenant. Lieutenant McKnight, open a channel to all the ships at our location."

While the lieutenant was accessing the appropriate channels, Collins opened a private channel to Virgil.

"Virgil, we'll need to cut through their fleet to get to that flagship. You're the only one who can pull off such a stunt, so get right on it if you would."

"Affirmative Commodore... I have an appropriate strategy, transmitting to the other ships in your battle-group."

"Sir, you're on in three..." Collins killed his link to Virgil, and looked into the holo-camera that would display his image to all the other ships in the group.

"Men and women of the UNSC, I won't lie to you, or try to fool you with pretty speeches. What we are about to do is an act of desperation, a final effort to help our planet. None of you here are obligated to follow my lead in this. If any of you feel you are unable to do your duty in this please know that nothing will be held against you if you leave. Lord knows I'm tempted to myself - there's a seat in a lifeboat somewhere with my name on it... but I'm not gonna be filling it today.

I say again there is no obligation here. There is just as much honour to be won with the rest of the fleet as with me. If you want, leave, and you may fear no reprisal. Commodore Collins out, and may God be with you all."

He killed the channel, and waited. Not a single ship moved. Collins wiped his brow in relief - despite his words he really did need every single one of these ships.

"All right then, let's go. Lieutenant Nichol, get us into formation with all speed."

The _Unrelenting _moved ponderously forward, it's damaged reactor almost red-lining under the strain. It slid into it's position as the rest of the sixty eight ships formed up around it. Virgil had chosen a bullet formation, similar to the original funnel, only narrower, with the _Unrelenting _at the centre.

The formation moved forward, slowly at first, but gaining speed rapidly. It began to glow as dozens upon dozens of MAC guns heated up, their magnetic accellerators giving off light. The whole formation shifted slightly, and each ship turned on it's axis, making minute aim adjustments.

On Collins' command console, orders and instructions from Virgil were flooding across the screen. He scanned them briefly before issuing his orders.

"Aright people, they haven't noticed we're here yet, so let's take full advantage of that. Lieutenant Cronin, I'm transmitting the co-ordinates and firing time of our target to your station; train those guns on our target and let fly on the mark, follow it up with the Archers. Lieutenant Nichol, once our MAC rounds are away I want full burn for as long as you can - everything you can give me understand? Main reactor, backup coolant, chemical thrusters - everything.

Lieutenant Cronin as soon as those MAC rounds are away I want you to start recharging the cannons, but don't draw power away from the engines. Also, I want you to remove all the locks from every piece of nuclear ordnance we have.

Lieutenant Millan, order the Longswords away to assist the other battle group - with any luck they'll be able to hitch up to another ship. I don't want them drifting alone when we're gone."

"Aye aye sir," they said in perfect unison. A cloud of exhaust fumes marked the path of sixty Archer missiles as they streaked towards the unsuspecting Covenant fleet. The ship shook twice, and twin bolts of metal streaked across space, following the Archers.

"Full burn initiating now sir!" Yelled Lieutenant Nichol as a huge roar filled the air. The ship shook even more under the combined power of all it's thrusters, and the accellaration pressed Collins back into his padded chair.

"Full power for as long as you can Lieutenant, then kill the engines!" He roared shakily over the nosie.

"Aye sir! I can give you another thirteen seconds!" Collins counted the numbers down in his head, and, right on time, the shaking stopped, the bridge fell silent.

"Engines offline sir, we're coasting from here."

"Roger that. Lieutenant Cronin do whatever you can to reheat those MACs. Incidentally, what news of our target?"

"They noticed us as soon as we started our burn sir. They turned towards us just in time to recieve a faceful of MAC. Nothing but scrap now sir, along with quite a chunk of their fleet too."

"Collins looked out the forward viewport, and saw to his pleasure that his formation had aready begun to cut quite a path into the Covenant fleet. Staggering their fire, the humans were able to fire almost constantly, slicing deeper and deeper into the horde of ships.

The _Unrelenting _fired again, and yet another enemy was removed from their path. The Covenant fleet was now fully aware of their presence, and they turned, plasma collecting along the lateral lines of their gleaming purple vessels.

"Sir, plasma away!"

"Don't worry Lieutenant, we're covered."

The disruptors on the other ships were already running hot. Torpedo after torpedo wavered and died, and the human ships simply brushed aside the clouds of dispersing plasma.

"Sir, those disruptors can't last long under this kind of strain, they could fail at any moment."

"Then let's hope they last long enough."

_Aboard the UNSC cruiser Illustrious, the complex circuitry of the disruptor, already pushed to breaking point, began to spark, and fail. The thick main power cable began to melt..._

"Sir! The _Illustrious _has been hit!" Yelled Lieutenant McKnight. A voice suddenly came over the bridge speakers, interspersed with static.

"_This is Captain Burnette of... _Illustrious. _We're going down, we'll try to buy you some time while... suggest you shut down all electrical circuitry... ter we're done... d luck guys, Burnette out."_

"Lieutenant Millan, shut down all non-vital power systems and prepare to fire up the backup generators. Lieutenant Nichol, track that ship!" Cried Collins. On the tac display he saw a marked ship - the doomed _Illustrious - _spin out of the formation and into the midst of the Covenant fleet. It slammed into a destroyer, smashing it off course. Three more plasma torpedoes splashed across it, melting away huge sections of the hull.

The human bullet formation coasted on, speeding away from the wreck of the cruiser. The Covenant fleet scattered away from the burning hulk, obviously picking up the huge energy spikes that were emanating from it. Moments later, the engines went critical, detonating in a massive globe of fire. Almost a dozen of the fleeing Covenant ships were vaporised in the blast. The EMP wave washed over the prepared human ships, and the lights barely flickered as the backup generators started up, picking up the load.

Another ship moved up from the centre of the formation and took the place of the _Illustrious._ Up ahead, a tiny shift in the Covenant ranks appeared, and Collins could see their prize; it wasn't an encouraging sight. Much bigger than a normal Covenant flagship - such as the _Ascendant Justice - _this one was almost four kilometres long.

"Almost there people. Once we reach the target, I want everyone to concentrate their fire on the target, but only to get it's shields down understand? _Only get it's shields down, do not destroy it!"_

"Sir, what are you thinking? We've got to destroy that thing or all this is for nothing!" Cried Lieutenant Cronin, jumping to his feet.

"Stand down son, we'll destroy it, but the rest of these boys are gonna get out first."

"Sir, target in sight," called Lieutenant Nichol.

"Lieutenant Cronin, target that ship and fire!"

"No need sir! Looks like the others beat us to it," Cronin broke off with a laugh as nine MAC rounds screamed past them and slammed against the huge flasgship. The shields flared, dimmed and died. He let out a low whistle, "that son of a bitch took quite a beating huh?" Collins nodded - nine rounds just to take down the shields was unheard of.

"Collins to all ships, scatter! Get the hell out of here now. You have one minute to get away from here. Recommend you launch any nuclear ordnance you have on the way out. Collins out."

The formation broke, ships flying out in all directions. They began to blast their way out through the Covenant fleet, many of them literally ramming the smaller ships out of the way in their haste.

"Lieutenant Nichol, bring us about by course zero zero eight, declination zero seven degrees." Nichol tapped the commands into her console with furious speed, looked at them for a moment, then spun slowly around in her chair to face him.

"Sir, that puts us on a direct collision course with the ship. At this speed I estimate impact in fourteen seconds."

Collins smiled. "You wanted to go out with a bang Lieutenant. Now I suggest you strap in." He slapped the impact alarm as the lieutenant sat back down and buckled herself in.

"Holiness!" A Brute roared, "collision in ten units!" The Prophet of Supposition, floating several feet above the command deck of the _Angel's Arrow, _sighed in irritation.

"First these animals attack, but break away before we are destroyed, now they try to ram us? What in the name of the Sacred Rings are they doing?"

"Who may divine the mind of an animal Holiness?" Replied the ship commander, a massive Brute who went by the name of Corradus. His huge paw pressed against the collision alarm, and klaxons blared throughout the vast flagship.

The ships collided.

Lieutenant Cronin blearily opened his eyes. His vision swam, and he raised a hand to his head to clear it... and almost blacked out from the pain. He let out a strangled scream of agony as red-hot knives of pain stabbed into his arm. His eyes now fully open, he looked down at the limb, and almost vomited - his forearm was broken, the bone thrusting out through the skin, the lower forearm almost severed clean off. Blood was pumping slowly from the wound.

He pushed himself upright with his other arm, relieved that he hadn't broken both. He sat up and looked around the bridge. It was a scene of almost total devastation; cracks covered the viewports like frost, threatening to shatter at any moment; four of the ten bulkheads had collapsed, and three more were badly twisted; bolts of electricity sizzled around broken consoles and screens, and the bridge crew...

He painstakingly hauled himself over to Lieutenant Nichol's chair. Gripping the back of the seat with his good hand he pulled himself up enough to look at her. Her eyes were closed, her head lolled on to her shoulder. She looked almost peaceful. She wasn't breathing.

Cronin gently pressed a hand to her neck, searching hopelessly for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there. Brushing his hand gently across her cheek, he took a deep, shuddering breath, and looked away, tears filling his eyes.

"Goodbye Holly."

He pushed himself to his feet, standing on shaky legs, and looked around. None of the bridge crew could be seen; most were buried beneath broken metal. He was the only one left. He lurched over to the command chair, his arm dangling selessly by his side, leaving trail of gore behind him. He looked down sadly at Commodore Collins, and a wave a nausea sent him, retching, to his knees.

The Commodore had been thrown from his seat, and hurled against the bulkhead. A jagged spear of broken metal was protruding from his stomach, and his dead hands were clutching it, his face drawn into a rictus of agony. With the metal through his stomach, he had been alive just long enough to suffer the agony before dying.

Thrown from his chair... impact with... the Covenant ship... _the Covenant ship. _The thoughts came slowly, confusedly, and he shook his head, trying to clear it. Something was nagging at his memory, a single word... _Shiva._

It came in a flash - _the warheads!_ The reason they had come here. Infused with a sense of purpose, he staggered back towards his station. Halfway there, he tripped, his foot catching on fallen console. He tumbled to the floor, his whole weight crashing down on to his broken arm. He screamed in pain for a few seconds, before slipping into merciful unconsciousness for a few minutes.

He rose once more from the depths of darkness, coming to the surface like a swimmer. Instantly he remembered what it was he had to do, and forced hiself back on to his feet, gritting his teeth against the excruciating pain in his arm . He hauled himself over to his console, and slumped back into his chair. He raised a hand, and began to type. Override codes rose from the depths of his jumbled mind, and he set them in one by one. Finally, the countdown timer setting appeared, and he set in the numbers. _One zero zero. _One minute.

'_One minute to live,' _he thought, _'what should I do?' _The answer came to him almost immediately; his duty. He forced himself out of his chair, and back to the command chair. Settling himself into it, he grinned - he'd always wanted to sit in this chair. A fresh stab of pain made him wince, and he pulled himself back to the task in hand.

He opened a universal comm channel, transmitting on every wavelength, to every receiver in range, and began to speak.

"This is Lieutenant Aiden Cronin of the _UNSC Unrelenting. _I've only got about fifty seconds left, so I'll make this quick. We've impacted on the Covenant flagship, and I've activated all our Shiva warheads. The rest of the bridge crew is dead, and for all I know so is everyone else on board. I hope everyone else got out, 'cause we're gonna blow big in about forty seconds now. Good luck people - don't let Earth go without a fight."

He killed the channel, settled back in the chair, and watched the numbers tick away silently. A sudden wave of sorrow swept over him - he had never in his life felt so alone.

"I wasn't meant to die on my own," he whispered, tears streaming down his face. As the timer reached zero he stood up, coming to attention, despite his broken arm that dangled by his side. He looked down at the impaled corpse of the Commodore, and saluted.

The crippled carrier glowed with an intense white light, which spread almost instantly to the great Covenant flagship. The two ships began to fuse under the fierce heat. The nuclear reactions chained up the _Unrelenting, _and then a great globe of energy encased the two ships. The engines of the Covenant vessel, vastly more powerful than those of the human ship, spiked from the huge amounts of radiation emitted by the warheads, and went into critical meltdown. At almost the exact moment that the superstructure of the _Unrelenting _failed, releasing the nuclear detonation, the _Angel's Arrow's _reactors overloaded, releasing a wave of energy into space.

A sphere of white light flashed out from the epicentre, massive purple lighting bolts, tens of kilometres long flashing around it, through it and spearing out from it. It grew from four kilometres across to hundreds in the blink of an eye, then faded, vanishing as quickly as it had come. From the first light to the last, it had only taken about four seconds. As the light died away, there could be seen, drifting in space, swirling in the solar winds, many small clouds of dust. They were all that was left of nearly two hundred Covenant vessels, and of the good ship _Unrelenting_ and her crew.

The Covenant fleet, bereft of it's leadership, was thrown into instant confusion. Lord Hood - still aboard the _Final Redoubt -_ seized his chance, and ordered all remaining human vessels to retreat, bringing them back into the Jovian system while they still could. It was a sorry sight - of the sixty eight ships that had assaulted the _Angel's Arrow, _only seventeen made it out of the fleet. Falling back from their diversionary assault were forty nine ships, and seven MAC stations. The battle for Earth was over. The fight for survival, however, was only just beginning.

Drifting through the realm of the stars, Virgil looked down at the scene of what had been battle. He aimlessly sifted through the vast amounts of communications traffic that was all but jamming the frequencies. Bursts of static, no doubt caused by the aftermath of the explosion of the _Unrelenting, _interrupted the chatter, and made what he could discern hazy at best. He could hear the words, but could not identify any of the voices.

"_Their pathetic fleet... crushed!" "We cannot set foot... Sacred Messiah without..." "His Holiness of Supposition is dead... circumstances!" "The Most Holy... Truth... here soon... wait." "...let the vermin... our grasp?" "Be calm! What is left flees... can contain the... without setting foot..."_

Virgil gave up in disgust. He had no use for this unintelligible noise. He returned to his planning, trying desperately to find a solution to the problem of the Covenant fleet. The very least he could do was try to lessen the damage; there was a solution of sorts there at least.

The great Covenant fleet, still numbering almost five thousand ships, moved over the green-blue planet, their great, whale-like shapes filling the skies. Night fell on the people of Earth.

And the evacuation began.

**Earth, United States of America**

**Boston, Massachusetts**

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 8:03:41**

James Pedher awoke to the sound of someone hammering softly, but urgently, on his door. He mumbled something indistinct into his pillow, and rolled over to gaze blearily at his chatter. The little clock display was reading 03:17:11.

"Wassat Jnni?" He mumbled. Almost immediately the musical tones of his highly modified - and equally illegal - AI companion spoke softly from his chatter.

"I'm sorry James, I didn't quite catch that." As happened so often, her voice carried a gently mocking tone.

"Not now Jenni. Just tell me what's going on would ya?"

"Much better - I'm just trying to help your pronunciation James. It would seem that a Marine Corporal Jefferson would like a word with you."

"Who? Is this about my enlistment? Geez, I knew military discipline would be tough, but I didn't expect this."

"No," said Jenni chirpily, "they're here to evacuate you." She had to raise her voice a little; by now the hammering on the door was quite intense. James, too tired to question her further, especially as that would mean keeping the marine waiting still further. He almost fell from his bed, the cold night air striking his unprepared skin. He gasped and shivered, then reached across the floor, groping for his dressing gown. A swathe of material met his hands, and he dragged it towards him as Jenni activated the lights. He pulled the gown on and stumbled wearily out of his room to the door.

He tugged at the handle, and was almost hit in the face as the marine's fist fell, presumably to begin knocking again. The marine glared at him, her brows drawing down in an unmistable expression of anger.

"Wanna spend any more time gettin' up there buddy?" She said, sarcasm dripping off her every word.

"Yeh yeh, very funny - next time call round during the day; at least if you want people to answer quicker."

"Kid, it's been a helluva long day, and I'm tired. I've still got a shit load of people to do, and the last thing I need right now is some wise-crackin' smart ass who thinks he's funny. Just get some clothes on and get down the goddamn stairs willya?" She turned away, and hurried off down the hall to James' neighbour. James gave her the one finger salute - once he was sure her back was turned - and closed the door.

"What the hell was that all about?"

"I told you," Jenni was now speaking from the apartment's soundsystem, in a voice of long-suffering patience, "they're evacuating you. You know - removing you from a war zone to a place..."

"I know what evacuating means dammit. What I mean is how? Aren't the Covenant like, right there on our doorstep?"

"Yes, they moved into the upper atmosphere at around eleven o'clock last night - that was just before you went to bed, saying that if the Earth was screwed, you'd rather it happened while you were asleep. Now the UNSC High Command, currently situated in the Jovian system, has ordered the Navy to evacuate as many citizens as possible."

"Does that mean we're gonna be dumped on a Pelican and made to run the blockade? Doesn't sound like much fun to me."

"James, you're going to have to trust me on this; they've got it worked out. When have I ever been wrong?" James didn't answer, but shuffled back to his bedroom to dress. Fully clothed, he looked about him for anything else he needed to take, and his eyes fell on his chatter; he'd definitely need that - at least, he would if he wanted to stay in contact with Jenni, which he did - very much. He pocketed the small device, and hurried into the kitchen. A half eaten pizza lay on the table, the cheese going lumpy as it cooled. He grabbed a couple of slices, took a huge bite, then rushed out of his front door.

The hallway outside was a crush of silent people. James was pressed against the wall as the tide of bodies scurried past. He retreated into his recessed doorway, and craned his neck, looking around. _Ah..._

He shouldered his way roughly through the crowd, heading for a small patch of moving space. Olivia Parker rarely had to fight her way through crowds; even with her torso wrapped in bandages she cut an extremely impressive figure, one that people automatically gave way to. James managed to fight his way through the press of bodies towards her, emerging from the crowd behind her, breathing deeply in the fresher air of her little aura.

"Liv... hey, Liv!" He reached out and tugged at the back of her jacket. She spun round, her hand coming down to seize his wrist and _twist_... she let go.

"Hey James. Sorry about that - you kinda startled me."

"No problem," he grimaced, massaging his wrist, "any idea what's going on?"

"As far as I know we're being evacuated, although how that's possible with five thousand Covie ships on our doorstep I have absolutely no idea. No word from Jenni?"

"Nothing useful - she just said trust her. Pizza?"

"Ah, no thanks, I think there's something growing on it. Wow, that's helpful. Supersmart AI and she can only say 'trust me'? - no wonder we're losing this war."

"Lost I'd say, and it's just some cold cheese... and an olive. Come on, let's take the stairs - the elevator'll be murder right now." Liv looked around curiously as they slipped out of the main hallway and headed down the stairs.

"James, I just noticed - where's your mom? You didn't leave her did you?"

"Nah, she's at _Simon's," _James spat the word, as though it left a bad taste in his mouth, "what about Billy and Liz?" Liv chuckled.

"They make their own arrangements, and you can bet your bottom dollar they'll be flying a better class than us. Ex-military ya know, they take care of their people." James smiled, then jumped the last few steps to the ground floor. He shoved the door open, and stepped through into the lobby of the apartment building.

"Maybe you'd better let me go first," said Liv, eyeing the dense crowds. James nodded, and followed her through the lobby, breathing deeply in the cool night air as they exited. A fine drizzle, like a soft cloud, was falling, coating everything in a shimmering sheen of moisture.

"Move it people - let's make this as quick as possible!" James and Liv looked round at the shout, and saw a marine sergeant standing at the roadside, bellowing at the hurrying crowds.

"Idiot," Liv snorted derisively, "these people are tired and scared - if he keeps shouting like this there's gonna be a riot. If only Billy was here - he'd tear the retard off a strip."

"Wishful thinking there, let's just get wherever we're going fast, and hope they hold off on the riots until after we're gone huh?"

The tension was almost tangible as they hurried down the road, just two more people in the whole silent, hurrying mass. Up ahead they could see the muted lights of Boston Spacelaunch shimmering through the rain, marking the site where thousands of vessels had been launched towards the stars for hundreds of years; never before had such a vital mission been initiated.

"Where's the ships then? Or are we gonna just flap our arms?" Liv looked around, puzzled, and then spotted them. Every single launch pad was a pool of deep shadow, almost invisible. The two of them found it almost impossible to focus on them.

"Stealth ships," whispered Liv in something approaching awe, "I've never even seen one, let alone this many. _That's _how we're being evacuated! The Covies won't even see us!"

"Never mind the Covies, _I _can barely see them." They entered the glass and brushed steel of the 'Launch, Liv brushing the sodden hair out of her eyes, and looked around. The huge lobby was jammed with people, most of whom were clutching bags of various kinds, which presumably held their hastily-snatched possesions. Several people in military dress were ushuring crowds of people away from the lobby towards the launches, and James and Liv found themselves slowly drifting towards on of the departure gates, caught up in the crowd. The edged along the dimly lighted corridors towards their pad, finally re-emerging into the soft rain. Up ahead of them was their vessel.

It seemed to crouch in shadow, the lights illuminating the rest of the pad almost sinking into it. It's wings curved gracefully back from the rounded nose, every dip and bend wreathing it still further in darkness. As they stood there, gazing up at the ship, and small hatch opened on the underside, and a ramp extended down to the ground. Warm light spilled out, and the crowd surged forward.

"D'you get the feeling that this thing wasn't designed for this many people?" James grunted, as the two of them forced themselves into an unoccupied corner, and looking round at the crush of people who were being forced into the ship.

"I'm pretty sure this isn't safe you know - I swera there're rules about space travel -like you've gotta be in a seat."

"Well not to worry - we could crash into the Moon and no-one'd budge we're packed in so damn tight. And besides, it's either this of die burning horribly when they glass Earth."

"Fair point. Even so, it's not gonna be a nice journey." James grinned, and squeezed himself further into the corner as the ramp whirred back up into the ship and the hatch closed. A soft vibration signalled the engines heating up, and everyone in the ship snatched out at handholds as the craft tilted back. The vibration stopped, the craft fell silent for several long minutes.

"Are we gonna go any time soon?" James murmured.

"We are. We left about three minutes ago."

"We did? I didn't feel anything - I thought space launches were really big things."

"They're called stealth ships for a reason idiot. It'd be a bit crap if we started off by rising on a massive column of flame wouldn't it! Now shut up or they'll hear us." James was about to retort but Liv's elbow jabbed into his ribs, and he shut up.

Five thousand insect-purple, whale headed behemoths hovered just above the outer reaches of the atmosphere. They were silent, almost serene, completely belying the terrible destruction they contained. They stood a solemn vigil, watchmen over the end of humanity. Their guard, however, wasn't strict enough.

It would take a very careful eye to spot the hundreds of all but invisible shadows that rose from the surface of the planet. They flitted through the clouds like breaths of wind, and rose into space to blend seamlessly with the blackness of the void. They passed as swift as the wind, and as silent as death.

_**Divine Majesty**_

**Slipspace**

**Firewall Mission Clock**

**T Minus 00:00:00**

Acting Captain Marne gazed at the display screen that showed the forward camera. Purple-white lights swirled suddenly before his eyes, then vanished suddenly, revealing the cold blackness of space. The cameras panned round, and revealed a sight that both lifted a great weight from his heart, and crushed his soul.

His beautiful planet, blue-green, drifting quietly through space, was a vision that could still move him as no other - as the Covenant had drawn closer to Earth, and his anxiety for it had increased, he became more and more glad to see it each time. At the same time, however, he could see the Covenant fleet hovering, unopposed above his world, and the horror of it was like lead weights on his soul. A hissing sound brought him back to his surroundings.

"Lieutenant Gerrard, I thought I ordered the bulkheads sealed."

"Not his fault Marne," came a rough, rusty voice from behind him, "I overrode it." Marne turned to see Captain Strachan walk painfully through the door. He looked terrible - his face was grey, his shoulders slumped. His chest was swathed in bandages, and he clasped one weak hand to his side.

"Captain! Are you sure you should be up yet?"

"No I shouldn't, but I'm damned if I'm going to miss this one. If you don't mind Acting Captain, I think I'll retake command."

"With pleasure sir - God knows I don't want to keep it." Marne rose from the command chair with a sigh of relief - not only was he grateful that the burden of command had been removed from his shoulders, but the chair had also been designed for an Elite, and therefore forced his spine into a very uncomfortable position. He twisted his torso around, and felt his vertebrae clicking back into place.

Captain Strachan eased himself into the chair and winced in pain as his wound sent a stab of pain across his chest.

"Lieutenant Worren, contact the _Final Redoubt _on a secure channel, appraise them of our status and find out what the hell's been going on. Kendra, stay ready to field any Covenant communicatiosn we receive."

"Already on it sir, we getting requests for information. They're asking after the whereabouts of someone called 'Most High'. Cross referencing data, I'm guessing they are referring to the Prophet of Truth, a figure that ONI beleives to be the closest thing the Covenant have to a leader. I'm telling them he's on his way, and he'll be here soon. They seem fairly satisfied with that."

"Try to find out what they're doing here, and why they haven't just glassed Earth. In fact, find out whatever you can. Any information could be useful at this stage. Worren, any news yet?"

"Yes sir. It seems that the Covenant attacked in force nearly a day ago. The fleet was all but destroyed - sixty six ships are all that remain, but they're not saying where in case this is intercepted, but they're hoping to use them still to some effect. Civilians are being evacuated from Earth in stealth ships as fast as possible, but so far they've only managed a fraction of the total population. Our only hope now lies with the MAC stations in the Jovian system - perhaps three hundred and fifty tops, but they'll never be enough; the Covenant still number about five thousand, and the Jovian defences are much worse than those of Earth.

I have appraised them of our situation and the events of our mission, and we are being told to hold position here and await further orders."

"Very well, that's what we'll do then."

Time passed agonisingly slowly. The crew and compliment of the _Divine Majesty _were left in unbearable tension. With nothing to do many of them simply walked the corridors. Sergeant Neary, bored to tears and almost shaking with tension, went in search of the Spartans. Their inhuman calm in these situations was as steadying as rock. He trotted through the purple halls to the Spartans' quarters.

Reaching the softly illuminated door, he knocked. A voice called him in - he recognised it as Will's. He moved inside, and felt the door slide shut behind him. The three of them were sitting on their bunks, checking and re-checking their weapons. Neary was taken aback - all three of them had discarded their Mjolnir armour, and were dressed simply in fatigues.

Each one was massively muscled, although Linda was of a slighter build than Will and Fred, and all three were lean and athletic. Their skin was so pale it was almost translucent. They looked up at him and smiled, their teeth blending almost seamlessly with their pale faces.

"Looking for anything in particular?" Fred asked.

"Not really, but I had nothing else to do so I thought I'd stop by and say hi," Neary grinned as he spoke the words, the casualness of his manner plainly a facade, "mind if I join in?" He asked, motioning to the weapons the Spartans were checking.

"Feel free. You shoulda brought your own, it'd be much more fun." Neary laughed and sat down on a free bunk, picking up a shotgun and stripping it down expertly. The four warriors chatted quietly as they dismantled and reassembled the weapons. As his hands moved through the familiar motions, he felt a great calm settle over him.

'_Ah,' _he thought, _'so _that's _how they do it.' _He smiled, and the minutes ticked away.

"Sir, I'm receiving indications that the Covenant are preparing to drop troops on Earth. The evacuations are far from complete, so some sort of drastic action will be required to at least stall them. There is relatively heavy ground force presence on Earth, but they're spread pretty thin.

From what I gather, both from High Command, and from my own actions, the Covenant are going to be concentrated in one area, although I can't quite figure out why. They will be focused along the Kenyan/Tanzanian border. There are quite high numbers of UNSC personnel there - a result of the previous invasion. It is, however, nowhere near enough defeat the invasion force which will number, I estimate, nearly twenty five million."

"_Twenty five million!" _Strachan all but shouted, "that can't be right - that's almost five thousand troops per ship! That can't be right!"

"It's a planetary invasion force Captain. The Covenant don't skimp things like this."

"But why are they invading at all? The only other time they did that was Sigma Octanus and Reach, and they only did that for some artifacts!"

"Well we can only assume there's something similar here. I'm sure all will be made clear in time. I'm recieving word from High Command that they already have a stratagem of sorts. Basically they are just going to be buying time for the evacuations. They're not revealing the exact details, butwe're still being told to hold position for now, although we are also being told to come to full battle readiness, and prepare the troops for a hard drop."

"Very well. Inform the crew, and keep all systems hot."

General Alan Patterson looked out at the lush savannah grassland below him, as the Kenyan terrain flashed passed beneath him. A gust of wind thrust against him, and he redoubled his grip on the handhold which was the only thing keeping him in the Pelican. He had ordered the hatch lowered for a reason - this might be the last time he ever saw this place, and he wanted to make the most of it.

"Two minutes to drop sir," called the pilot. Patterson barely acknowledged him, so intent was his scrutiny. Even from this altitude he could still make out the herds of wildlife, panicked by the dropships passing, stampeding across the plains. He stared at them, hundreds of tiny dots racing across the landscape.

"We're here sir." The general snapped back to reality, and looked behind him and through the cockpit windscreen. Right ahead loomed a vast spike of stone. Mount Kilimanjaro, the highest mountain in Africa, reared out of the Tanzanian plains. The normally serene display of splendour was now crawling with activity. Thousands of machines created dark bands around the mountain as they excavated and built up line after line of defensive perimeters; hundreds of firing pits, connected with miles of trench lines; networks of minefields; sniper towers by the score; dozens of concrete bunkers; huge firing ranges had been dug out of the mountainside, and battalions of Scorpion tanks had been trundled in, ready to unleash death upon any Covenant foolish enough to pass by.

Work had begun soon after the first invasion, following a fragment of intercepted transmission from one of the Covenant fleet. It had expressed definite interestin the area, but unfortunately the ship had been destroyed before the whole of the message could be received. The UNSC had ordered that the area be fortified, but the marine garrison was still dangerously under strength - at least, it was in the face of twenty five million Covenant troops.

Nevertheless, thousands of Marines were encamped at the foot of the mountain, ready to move in and take position once the fortifications were completed, which they very nearly were. General Patterson was one of the last to arrive; he would be in complete command of the defence. Currently he was hoping like hell that High Command knew what they were doing, as he didn't have enough men at the moment to man the first line of defence.

As he leapt down from the Pelican on to the hard-packed earth, the next phase of the defense began.

In the great empty space between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter hung the Main Asteroid Belt. The great cloud of debris, composed of billions of fragments of rock and ice, some no bigger than dust motes, and some metres across, glimmered in the sunlight, throwing trillions of flashes of colour into space.

To the casual observer, the sixty six warships concealed in it were simply so much more debris.

Now, several dozens dim glows appeared within the Belt itself. The dun coloured vessels began to manoeuveur their way through the Belt towards a specific point. As they reached it they congregated into a solid mass. There was no particular formation, just a grouping. Radio waves were beaming across the void to them from the High Command, sending a great stream of instructions.

Suddenly, as one, the great engines, powered by the same forces that fueled the Sun, flared into brilliant light. The ships shot forward, leaving comet-like trails blazed across the void. Reactors red-lining, they passed Mars' orbital plane in a matter of minutes, and careened onwards towards Earth.

The Covenant fleet reacted, but too slow. Barely had they begun to move towards the UNSC's target zone than the human vessels struck. More than a hundred carefully aimed MAC shells rocketed from their guns. They hammered into the unprepared Covenant ships, and more than thirty of them were torn apart, blown apart or simply drifted lifeless in space. With the rest of the Covenant fleet still en route to the area, the UNSC had just punched a hole in the aliens' defensive grid.

The ships spun round on their axes, until their undersides were facing towards the planet. Suddenly, still almost a hundred kilometres from the atmosphere, their engines flared once more, and they scattered, heading off in different directions. The Covenant peeled away from the planet, and gave chase. Not one of them spotted the hundreds of tiny objects that were speeding towards the surface of the planet.

The ships had launched all their Orbital Drop Pods, along with every life boat and Pelican. A huge wave of reinforcements was right now dropping through the atmosphere towards Africa, thousands upon thousands of Marines and ODSTs.

The move was not without loss, however. The scattered ships were being fiercely pursued by the Covenant, and already several had been destroyed. Those that remained fled desperately for the transient safety of the Belt. In a bid to slow the enemy down, several of the ships dropped clusters of Moray space mines, which detonated moments later, engulfing the Covenant ships in globes of fire.

Only thirty eight ships made it back to the Belt. As they nosed their way into the clouds of dust and ice the Covenant pulled back, unwilling to follow them into such an obvious deathtrap. The headed back to Earth, to where the real fight was about to begin.

Corporal Fetter kicked his booted feet into the corners of his pod, bracing himself against the shock that was about to come. No sooner was he secured than a huge fist slammed into the small cage of metal; he had hit Earth's atmosphere. The pod shook and rolled as it plummeted through the ionosphere, and beads of sweat broke out on the Corporal's brow as the metal began to heat up from the immense air friction.

With one eye on the tiny LCD display screen, he was ready for the second shock as his 'chute unfurled. His strap barely stopped him from smashing his head against the top of the pod as it flipped upright and slowed dramatically. With a shaking hand he reached out, struggling against the G forces, and tapped a few buttons on the display. It switched to show him the locations of the rest of the force, including the Pelicans; the ODSTs' pods were still in relatively tight formation, with a few off target. The Pelicans, although they were all pushing their engines to the full, were still some way behind.

An unexpected jolt sent a wave of fear through him; his chute had just collapsed. Unable to withstand the enormous forces, it had snapped clean off. Automatic sensors and systems kicked in, and his reserve chute shot out, it's metallic fins spreading out and catching the air. Fetter closed his eyes and prayed desperately that the chute would hold. He counted off the ten seconds in his head - if it held that long, he was fine. Those were the longest ten seconds of his life.

He breathed a huge sigh of relief and opened his eyes - his chute was holding. All he had to do now was enjoy the ride.

That was becoming increasingly difficult however; the inside of the pod was now roasting hot, and the sweat was soaking his clothes. He shifted uncomfortably and mvoed his shoulder blades, trying to unpeel the sodden clothes from his back. Another glance at the display showed his altitude dropping rapidly; he couldn't wait to get the hell out of this thing.

"They don't call it 'feet first into hell' for nothing Phil," came the voice of Corporal Adams, who must have been watching him over the display system.

"When we get down, remind me to install a friggin' sprinkler system or something in here!" Fetter shouted shakily over the roar of the wind outside. Adams chuckled and began to say something, but was cut off as another shudder ran through the pods - the airfoils had deployed, slowing them down for the final descent.

Fetter braced himself once again, and grunted in pain as the huge shockwave swept through his small craft. The front screen was blasted off as the shock tore it from it's holding pins - exactly the way it was designed.

The shaking stopped. Fetter looked up and saw the rolling plains of the African veldt. The beauty of it caught at his heart, and he unfastened his harness and stepped out into the blessedly cool breeze. All around him hundreds more pods were crashing down to earth, and his companion warriors were stepping out. Reaching back into his pod he retrieved his equipment and weapons, and took a final look at the display screen. He was just east of Mount Kilimanjaro. Forming up with the rest of his company, he set out towards Earth's last stand.

"Sir! What the hell was that about? You just wasted nearly thirty perfectly servicable ships! What chance do we stand if the fleet attacks us now?"

"Captain Strachan you forget your place!" Bellowed Lord Hood over the comm link, "the battle in space is lost! All we can hope for now is to evacuate as many people as possible from Earth. Even that is a long shot! Assuming we can hold our own here at Jupiter what then? Do we confine forty billion people to a few inhospitable moons?

All that matters now is the battle on the ground! Every measure is being taken to assist our efforts, and if sacrificing a few useless ships means giving every citizen of Earth a better chance at life then so be it!"

"Sirs," came Kendra's soft voice over the speakers, "I hate to interrupt but there's something I think you should know. There's a slipspace anomaly a few thousand kilometres from the Belt. Without any proper probes I can't be sure what it is, but I suggest you take a look." Hood looked awy from the screen at the display Kendra was streaming to him, and his eyes widened.

"I'm sending our remaining ships on an intercept course. It's too much to hope that it's friendly, but if it's unknown..." Hood didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to; everyone present knew what an unknown factor meant, especially in this situation - trouble.

Lord Hood watched as the thirty eight ships of the human fleet cautiously sped forwards towards the seemingly empty patch of space. He prayed the Covenant would hold off long enough for them to investigate the mysterious anomaly, and for now it seemed his prayer was answered - the Covenant, apparently satisfied that the UNSC had retreated into the Belt for good, hadn't yet noticed their advance.

He tapped a few commands into his console and a holo-display flashed up infront of him, showing the bridge of the newly-elected flagship of the human fleet, the destroyer _UNSC Cassia. _The ship's captain looked up at Hood and saluted.

"Sir! We're approaching the target zone now. ETA for the anomaly is any second now. We'll be waiting on your orders sir."

"Very good Captain. Hang tight until it appears." A tense silence filled both the bridge of the _Cassia _and the command room of the _Final Redoubt _as the seconds ticked away.

Suddenly, a swirling burst of shimmering purple and white lights filled the forward viewscreen of the _Cassia. _Hood squinted against the light, and saw the strangest thing in his life.

A spike of gleaming metal, brilliantly reflecting the slipspace lights, was emerging from the rent. As he watched it widened, thickening down to the base. Three more spikes spread from the base, and nestled in the centre of the four was a pale globe. The thing was huge - much bigger than even the largest Covenant ship ever encountered. the light vanished behind it, and right on cue, the navigation officer of the _Cassia _shouted out.

"I've got a new contact, unknown classification!" The captain turned to the holo-display and looked at Hood, awaiting his orders. Hood, slightly stunned by the appearance of the ship, shook his head slightly, and answered the captain's unspoken question.

"It isn't one of ours. Take it out!" His eyes fell on the weapons officer's console and watched the MAC guage heating up. As it approached seventy percent, Hood heard the one voice he least expected coming over the speakers.

"This is Spartan 117, can anyone here me? Over." Hood stood stunned once more for the briefest of moments, but he was a warrior born and bred; personal surprise came second to a battle.

"Isolate that signal!" He shouted to the _Cassia, _"Master Chief, d'you mind telling me what you're doing on that ship?"

"Sir, finishing this fight." Hood smiled at the Spartan's reply, then turned his attention to his fleet; the Spartan could take care of himself. "Captain, call off your attack. Pull the fleet back to the Belt..." a beeping noise from his console made him look down, then resume his orders with renewed urgency, "Captain! Pull the fleet back right now! The Covenant's noticed you, they're on their way - you haven't got much time. Besides which, we have no idea what that ship can do. Let's not provoke it..."

His words were again cut off, this time by a blinding flash of light. A lance of energy flashed from the huge vessel and slammed into a human frigate. The frigate glowed white for a brief instant, then was engulfed in a cloud of white light. The spear of energy disappeared, the light faded, the ship... had vanished. A slowly expanding cloud of vapour was all that remained.

"Jesus!" Roared Hood, "what the bloody hell was that! Captain get your ships out of there _right now!" _The Captain was ahead of him it seemed, and was already bellowing orders to his navigation and communication officers. The fleet spun round, and their mighty engines burned brighter than the Sun. The ships shot forwards, away from the monstrous vessel and towards the Belt. Three more lances of light licked out and vaporised three more ships even as they fled.

One ship, a destroyer, paused a moment before it fled, and fired two MAC rounds at the behemoths. The slugs of metal streaked towards the giant vessel and... stopped. There was no shimmer of a shield, no ricochet, the rounds simply stopped dead in mid flight, shivering slightly.

The great ship moved away towards Earth, apparently oblivious to the human ships still racing towards the Belt. Behind it the two MAC shells hung dead in space.

In the command room of the _Final Redoubt, _Lord Hood slumped back into his chair and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"Captain Strachan, did you see that?" He looked up at the holo-display that was still showing Strachan's now white face.

"Yes sir. I saw it. Orders sir?"

Hood sat for a moment, pondering his options. He came to a decision.

"That ship's heading for Earth. I only hope it lands, because if it stays up here, any chance we may have had can be kissed goodbye. I said before that the battle on the ground is all that matters now, and I stand by that. Right now Captain, you have on that ship humanity's best hope. I want you to move your ship in and drop your troops into the engagement zone. I'll send word ahead to General Patterson of your arrival.

Once you're done, fall back to the Belt and observe the battle. Stand by there and await further orders."

"Aye sir."

The _Divine Majesty_ powered forward, headed straight for Earth. Strachan slapped a button on his console, and the ship-wide alarms blared, alerting all crew to battle stations. He opened a comm channel, and spoke.

"All hands this is Captain Strachan. We are moving in for Earth. All combat crews to the launch bays, we're going to be dropping you hard and fast." Kendra spoke into his ear briefly, his eyes widened, and he continued, "Firewall teams, including the Spartans, report to deck sixteen, port side. We've got a surprise for you." He smiled. The Firewalls would be dropping faster than most.

The Spartans and Neary had been on their feet the instant the alarms had sounded. Now they were pounding, fully equipped, along the dimly lit corridors towards the internal grav lift that would take them down to the bottom deck; deck sixteen.

They plummeted through the ship and landed hard, sprinting off down the hallways once more. As they ran they were joined by the rest of the Firewall team, also fully loaded and good to go. The door ahead of them slid open and they burst through into a huge chamber. Row upon row of oblong, angular shapes stretched away from them to the very back of the room. Kendra's voice spoke over the speaker system.

"Okay Firewalls, pick a pod and strap yourselves in. You'll be dropping feet first soldiers!"

A cheer went up from roughly half the assembled soldiers; the Firewall program had been assembled from both the standard Marine corps, and also from the ODST divisions. It was the ODSTs that had cheered - they had recognised the pods for what they were; Covenant Orbital Drop Pods. They rushed towards them, and almost threw themselves inside, so eager were they to return to their precious Drops.

The other Firewalls, while certainly less eager, showed no hesitation in stepping into the angular objects. As Neary strapped himself in, he heard Private First Class Archer's voice through his comm unit.

"It's like having your own personal coffin," she muttered.

"Yeah," called a former ODST, "it saves time!" A few laughs followed his quip, mainly from other Helljumpers. They stood there in all-but silence for several minutes, before Kendra spoke again.

"Ready Firewalls. Drop in ten..."

Neary felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as hydraulic arms thrust his pods out of the belly of the ship. Weightlessness took him, and he almost felt like he was drifting idly in space. That notion, however, was quickly displelled, as a slight shuddering began to rock the craft. A steady thrumming began to fill the pod as it fell through the outer reaches of Earth's atmosphere. It got louder and louder, and the pod shook more and more violently. Over the noise, Neary could just hear Kendra's voice calling through the speakers.

"Welcome back Firewalls. There isn't much left any more, but still - what a homecoming huh?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Whoa! Did It Suddenly Get A Little Crowded In Here?

The giant silver ship descended through the atmosphere more gracefully than a dancer. Wisps of cloud and vapour swirled around it's three lower spurs, and whirled around the vortex that surrounded the vertical spike that stabbed towards the heavens, leaving a vast contrail that descended like a pillar of smoke in the vessel's wake.

Far below, but coming nearer all the time, the huge African continent filled the sky below it, stretching from horizon to horizon. The ship landed, so gently that it almost seemed like a lover entering the soft embrace of her partner's arms.

A silvery shaft of light descended from the crux of the three spurs, reaching down to kiss the hard earth below. Tiny figures, dwarfed by the magnificence of the vessel, descended down the beam of light, and came to rest on the dirt. They moved out of the light as many more figures began pouring out of the belly of the ship.

One of the figures, flanked by a quartet of massive Brutes, drifted forwards a few feet above the ground, his throne bobbing slightly in the breeze. The Most High and Holy Prophet of Truth, Supreme Leader of the Covenant, gazed around at the planet that had filled his dreams for years... so many years, life without reprieve. His serpentine neck twisted slightly, and his triangular head tilted back to look up at the huge, imposing bulk of the mountain that reared up from the African plain before him. He raised a clawed hand, his crimson robe falling back to revealing wizened arms, wrinkled skin hanging off it in folds. His claw unfolded, pointing directly at the mountain. He spoke a single word:

"Attack."

And, several miles away, responding to ancient signals that hadn't been sent since long before the dawn of man, ancient mechanisms, antique beyond comprehension, whirred to life. Systems that had lain dormant for eons found new life, deep below the surface of the Earth. Like a great beast stirring from slumber, it awoke.

The Covenant Drop Pods, it seemed, were far more accurate than human ones. The Firewall team had landed within half-kilometre radius, without a single casualty. Within two minutes of landing they had stripped their pods of what little gear they had secured and formed up. Now they were running at a steady pace of 30 kph over the savannah towards the huge urban sprawl that lay a few kilometres to the east.

Within fifteen minutes they were inside the suburbs of Nairobi, the pleasant buildings still retaining hints of the Arabesque architecture that had swept from the east coast of Kenya across the country a few centuries ago. At the head of the column, Fred ran on unerringly, following Kendra's intructions as he ran towards the nav marker that blinked in his Heads Up Display.

Two and a half minutes later, the column stopped infront of a low building, constructed almost completely of concrete and brushed steel. It stuck out like a sore thumb amidst the mix of towering office buildings and native architecure that filled the rest of the city. Fred led them forwards into the dark atrium, and was greeted by faceless Marine officer, who nodded to him and said,

"Chief Petty Officer, please follow me. Bring your team along too. You're to be debriefed - and brief was never a more appropriate term - and prepped to leave as quickly as possible. You're needed."

General Alan Patterson stood on the roof of his command bunker at the lip of the crater atop Mount Kilimanjaro, and gazed out at the sea of enemies that ringed the foot of the mountain. _Twenty five million!_ It was almost incomprehensible. Patterson was almost grateful for his vantage point - never before had he ever seen a sight like this, and the way things were looking now, he never would again. It was awe-inspiring.

File after file of Brutes by the hundred, Jackals in their thousands, swarms of Drones that would eclipse the sun as they flew overhead, battalions of Wraiths and Ghosts and Spectres, armadas of Phantoms and Banshees... it was enough to numb the mind, and all set against the unworldly backdrop of the massive silver ship that stood at the rear of the army like a silent warden of death.

Even from here he heard the roar as the great sea of Covenant surged forwards towards the foot of the mountain. Just ground forces at the moment, no Banshees or Phantoms - Patterson thanked whatever god might be listening for that. They'd test the humans' strength first, before commiting their own to the battle.

The enemy crashed against the defenses like a vast wave, and recoiled as sheets of lead spat from the many gun emplacements. Corpses fell in droves to the floor. Sheets of flame leapt up as grenades and rockets detonated in the ranks. Waves of plasma seared the concrete walls and bunkers. To Patterson, thousands of feet above it, it was all just lights and noise.

Speaking of noise...

He looked up and around as a sound like the air itself being torn in two smashed into his ear drums.

Maria Wincott hauled back on her stick, pulling her bird out of the nose dived that had sent it plummeting through the atmosphere. For a moment she thought it wasn't going to hold as the groaning of metal under immense stress filled the cockpit, and the stick fought against her pull. She strained... and the nose pulled up. The dive evened out, just a kilometer from the surface. The Pelican began to ascend slowly as the bulk of Mt. Kilimanjaro appeared on the horizon, growing larger with worrying swiftness.

"That's sorted out the dive," she muttered through gritted teeth, "now to lose some of this speed."

The Pelican's thrusters fired in full reverse. Air brake flaps flipped open. Everyone in the craft was slammed forward as it decelerated from Mach 4 to Mach 1 in a matter of moments. Sonic booms thundered through the metal as Pelican after Pelican in the Firewall fleet dropped below the spped of sound. A vast wave of noise rippled out ahead of them towards the mountain, now only two kilometres away.

Wincott could see the command bunker on the crater, and could even just make out the figure standing on top of it. She tapped a button, and the hatch at the rear of her bird flipped down. As if reading her mind, her co-pilot responded to her unspoken commands, unclipping his harness and exiting the cockpit, fighting his way through the crush of bodies in the rear section to stand on the lowered hatch.

Wincott brought the craft to a halt just above the bunker, and her co-pilot shielded his eyes from the dust that whipped up. As it settled, he looked down at the astonished General and shouted,

"Sir! We heard you had a bit of trouble over here, so we thought we'd drop by and give you a hand. We've got some reinforcements here for you."

"How many?" Was all Patterson managed to say through his surprise.

"Not many - a few hundred ODSTs. It's all we had, but every little helps right?"

"You're a life-saver son! Unload them ASAP and tell them to report to here for positioning. Our AI can brief them on the fly."

"Will do sir! Wincott!" This to Maria,

"Yeah?" She yelled back.

"Tell the others to unload, and the troops to report here when they're down."

"On it." The co-pilot turned back to Patterson.

"They'll be up shortly sir."

"Good. I don't suppose you could rake a few of those bastards out there for me could you? I'm worryingly low on air support, and I could do with all the help you can give."

"Sorry sir, we're all dry. We had to leave in a bit of a hurry, and we couldn't afford any excess weight. Besides, our orders are to report straight back to Nairobi as soon as we make the drop."

"Not to worry son, we'll manage. Now get going!"

"Yes sir! Take us away Wincott!" The Pelican moved away down the mountain slightly to where the others in the Firewall fleet were already crowding the landing pads, dropping their contingents of ODSTs. Each bird had been overloaded to get them all down, but with any luck it'd be worth it. Theirs was the last to make the drop, and as the last trooper leapt from the hatch the Pelican rose into the air, turning towards the north-east as it did so, and took it's position at the head of the formation.

The fleet sped away towards Nairobi, and the ODSTs quickly descended the mountain towards their positions, the AI Andronicus speaking through their headsets, briefing them as they went.

And the battle raged on.

This briefing room was just like any other - a huge semi-circular ampitheatre, with concrete tiers rising into the shadows, lined with silent people, all focusing on the figure at the pedestal at the centre of the room.

"The Covenant landed slightly more than two hours ago, and have surrounded Mount Kilimanjaro. Our forces are dug in on the mountain, and we have called in reinforcements - basically every fighting man on the planet. They're coming as quickly as they can, but a mobilisation on such a large scale takes time.

Your mission is to approach the Covenant from the rear and infiltrate the ship that has landed, and rendesvous with Master Chief Spartan 117 who is believed to be aboard," a tiny ripple of excitement passed through the Spartans present. "Once you have found him, you are to assist the defense in any manner possible - that is your main objective. Your secondary objective - should the opportunity arise - is to eliminate the Prophet of Truth. It is hoped that with their leadership destroyed, the Covenant may abandon their attack, or at least fall back to regroup.

On the first basement level of this complex is an armoury and a garage. Load up with whatever you need, and take any vehicles you deem necessary. You are being given full and complete access to our weapon stores, so make the most of it. Good luck Firewalls, dismissed."

The soldiers streamed out of the huge double doors at the back of the room, and headed towards the huge express elevators that ran from the top of the building down through several hundred feet to the foundations. A short descent and the doors opened to reveal a long, low room. A collective sigh of pleasure went up from the Firewalls as they gazed into the room, then began to fan out through the rows and rows of racks that ran the length of the room. Every single one was lined with all the weapons the UNSC had at it's command.

"I think I'm in heaven," breathed Sergeant Carella as he picked through the rifles.

"OK people, time's against us so let's make this quick!" Called Sergeant Neary, "remember, we're going in hard, so don't skimp on the firepower!" He looked down the rack, and smiled beautifically. His hand reached out, and picked up a shiny new battle rifle. He tested it for weight and balance, and found it perfect. Stripping it down and reassembling it swiftly, he found not a single flaw.

Looking around, he located a twin-back holster and strapped it into place, sliding the rifle into one of the slots and securing it. He took a few more steps down the aisle and found what he was looking for. An M90 shotgun joined the battle rifle in the holster, and a full compliment of ammunition slid neatly into the holding clips alongside their respective weapons. Four frag grenades were clipped onto his belt over his hips, and four more on a bandolier went across his chest. Two M6C Magnums went into a pair of thigh holsters, and half a dozen clips went into the back of his belt. He strapped an eight inch combat knife to the inside of his left forearm, and slid another into his right boot.

He grinned again and shifted his shoulders, settling the weight more comfortably. Looking around, he noted with satisfaction that all his own fire team was loaded up and ready to go. The rest of the Firewalls were not far behind. He waited a further minute before giving Fred an acknowledgement light. The Spartan glanced around briefly before ordering them out.

"Time to move out Firewalls! The garage is at the far end of this room - double time it!" The soldiers streamed towards the doors and burst through into the murky, petrol-smelling dimness of the garage beyond.

"Lights!" Fred yelled, and bright neon striplights flashed to life, illuminating the whole huge garage. Dozens of Scorpion tanks hulked in the shadowy holding pits, fleets of Warthogs - both minigun and Gauss - stood silent, their weapons cold.

"We need speed people, leave the tanks, get in the 'Hogs!" Called Fred as the Firewalls ran over to the vehicles. Neary jogged over to an unoccupied standard 'Hog, unfastened his back holster and draped over the back of the driver's seat before climbing in behind the wheels and honking the horn for passengers.

A pair of thuds made him look around - two heavy duffel bags had landed in the rear of the 'Hog, and PFC Chung and Corporal Russel grinned at him as they secured them.

"We heard the racket you were makin', and thought we come over just to shut you up if nothing else," Corporal Russel said as she swung herself up into the sideseat.

"What's with the bags? You planning on going camping or something?"

"Just a little extra equipment sarge. You said to go heavy so we went heavy," Chung said as he strapped himself in behind the turret. Neary grinned as the heavy doors infront of him opened slowly, letting in the bright sunlight. Russel brushed her red hair out of her eyes and fastened her helmet over her head.

"Hit it sarge!" Neary pressed his foot down, and the 'Hog shot forwards into the sun.

Maria Wincott looked down as she approached the complex, and saw first one, then two, then dozens of Warthogs drive out onto the street. Looking up she saw the flashing lights of the landing pad up ahead, and brought her bird to a halt a few feet above it. The landing legs geared down, and she dropped the last few feet gently, so the Pelican barely dipped as it landed. She ran a swift post-flight check, then shut down the engines and cycled down the rear hatch.

Unclipping her harness, she joined her co-pilot and strode from the cockpit and out of the Pelican, jumping down from the rear. Looking around amid the roar of the other landing Pelicans, she saw a beckoning figure over by a hatch set into the floor of the pad. She nudged her co-pilot and hurried over to the figure, joined on the way by several pilots. When all of them were assembled by the hatch, the man who had beckoned them over keyed open the hatch and started down the stairs inside with a terse,

"Follow me please." Hurrying after him, Wincott snatched a look back at the landing pads, expecting to see teams of technicians swarming over them, refueling and re-arming them; instead she saw nothing. The pads were still and silent.

"What the hell?" She exclaimed, "I thought we were gonna be heading straight back! Don't tell me we've been pulled outta the fight!"

"In here please," said the man, ushering them into an elevator, "and please don't worry. The brass has a... surprise in store for you." Wincott wasn't entirely sure what to make of that, so she remained silent as the elevator swept them down through the facility, coming to a rest several floors below the surface. The doors opened, and the man lead them down a long corridor.

At the far end, infront of a pair of large doors, stood another man, this one in Navy uniform, with the insignia of a Commodore. As they approached he said,

"Ladies and gentlemen, please follow me through here. The UNSC has something... special for you." He turned and lead them through the doors into the cavernous, dark chamber beyond.

"This looks like a hanger..." began Wincott, before her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she made out the dim shapes rearing up before her.

"Whoa..."

"Riley! Get on the .50! Porter and Dixon follow me!" Bellowed Corporal Fetter, ducking down behind the instacrete rampart and sprinting towards the small bunker up ahead. A sudden explosion behind him blasted him from his feet and hurled him into the side of the trench. He lay there for the briefest of moments, winded, before leaping to his feet and spinning round in a crouch, falling to one knee, his Battle Rifle levelled.

A Covenant charge had blasted a three foot wide breach in the thick 'crete, vaporising Privates Porter and Dixon. Fetter keyed his headset, calling for a breach repair and a support squad at his position simultaneously. Three glowing shields appeared in the gap as a trio of Jackals edged forwards. Fetter didn't even think about it; his hand whipped from the stock of his rifle to his belt, and tugged a frag grenade from it, thumbing out the pin as his hand came back up. He tossed forwards, bouncing it off the ground and behind the shields. Half a second later a cloud of flame and dirt mushroomed up, and the three Jackals were hurled into the far wall of the trench, their bodies torn and broken by the shrapnel. A satisfying _hiss _reached his eyes as their shields died.

A bellow of fury brought his rifle back to his shoulder and his eyes to the breach; that sounded like a Brute. Sure enough, a furry arm, with a red plasma rifle clutched in it's paw appeared around the corner. The huge creature dived forward into the trench and rolled, coming up facing away from Fetter. His finger twitched three times, and the Brute lurched forwards, the nine rounds piercing the back of it's skull. A feral scream of rage echoed around him, and he shook his head.

'_That's right, Brutes go in twos don't they.'_

He edged forwards and slung his rifle, pulling a shotgun from his side. He was four feet from the jagged edge of the breach when a second Brute rushed through on all fours. It paused for a second and looked around. Spotting Fetter, it bellowed with rage again, and charged at him; straight into a cloud of buckshot. It reeled from the blow as Fetter pumped the shotgun, and shook itself. A heavy fist swung at him as Fetter unloaded a second shell into it's chest, tearing through layer after layer of thick bone and muscle. He rolled backwards, and the heavy paw just caught his helmet, leaving his ears ringing. Coming to his feet again, he caught a split second glimpse of bloody fur before the thing was on him, bowling him over backwards. He squeezed the trigger as he tumbled, the Brute on top of him. It collapsed, dead, onto him, it's blood seeping from a score of holes in it's chest.

Fetter took a deep breath, and heaved. The heavy carcass rolled off him as he shoved it. He came shakily to his feet, his head swimming, before the reality of the situation came back to him. He gathered up his fallen weapons and lurched towards the breach again, resting his back against the wall beside it, and pumping his shotgun once more. He peered around the side, and ducked swiftly back as a wave of angry red plasma fried the air infront of his nose. It had been brief, but that one glance had been enough; nearly two dozen Brutes and a score of Jackals were running towards his position, and he alone was here to defend it.

"Goddammit where's my backup squad?" He screamed into his radio, then looked down the trench towards Riley, who was crouched behind a turret, unloading it into a small swarm of Drones that were retreating from the line.

"Riley! Point that thing this way and take out some of that attacking force! They're almost in the breach!" Riley heard him and turned the turret, the huge bullets slicing into the aliens. Five Brutes and at least as many Jackals were cut down as they charged up the steep incline, and a few turned their weapons on Riley's position, who ducked down again, and the plasma splashed harmlessly over the instacrete beside him. Fetter swung round the corner again and tossed another grenade at the feet of the attackers; a Brute and two more Jackals were shredded, and a piece of shrapnel tore through the shoulder of the lead Brute, almost severing the whole arm. Fetter ducked back again as another salvo of plasma washed across his position.

He crouched there, counting off the seconds in his head, his shotgun in his hands, then swung round the corner again, and brought the barrel of the weapon right up against the face of the Brute that had just reached the breach. He squeezed the trigger, and the astonished Brute's head vanished in a mist of blood and brains. The headless corpse fell back, tripping the Brute behind it, which fell forwards into Fetter's boot, which slammed forwards into it's face, smashing it's nose into it's brain. He tossed a third grenade into a group of four Jackals, and ducked back as it detonated.

'_Hmm, fifteen Brutes and as many Jackals. That's a bit much even for an ODST, and I'm all outta tricks,' _he mused as he loaded another four shells into his shotgun. On his left, Riley was again harrying the attackers with turret fire. He ducked back again as they retuned fire, and looked over at Fetter, signalling frantically. _Three Brutes and two Jackals down! They're coming back in!_

Fetter nodded in acknowledgement, and pulled his Battle Rifle from it's holster. He stood up, and rested it on the top of the rampart, and squeezed the trigger; a Jackal fell dead, and it's body was crushed underfoot as the Brutes rushed forwards. He ducked down, and hurried ten yards down the trench, speaking into his radio as he went.

"Riley, stay on that .50 until they get in, then get your gun out and give me a hand." Riley raised a hand in acknowledgement, then squeezed the trigger, cutting down two Brutes and a Jackal that had been lagging behind the rest. Two Brutes burst through the breach, and opened fire on Fetter, who dived to one side, rolling on his shoulder and coming up in a side trench. He heard the bark of Riley's Battle Rifle, and prayed that his squad mate would be okay.

He dove out, rolling to his knees and saw a group of the enemy creeping cautiously towards his trench. One Brute was down to his fire before they even had time to react, and a Jackal dropped dead to the floor before he returned to his hiding place, but not without injury; as he rolled, a bolt of plasma seared across his side, melting the titanium-A armour plating and burning into his flesh. He cried out in agony, and came to his feet in the side trench again, sweat pouring down his face as he gritted his teeth against the pain. He clamped a hand to his side and found to his relief that there was no blood - the heat of the plasma must have cauterised the wound even as it made it. His headset crackled to life, and Riley's voice spoke into his ear.

"Fetter! Fetter are you okay? That hit looked pretty bad."

"Yeah," Fetter grunted, "I'm good - those damn Covies can't shoot for shit," he heard Riley chuckle, "Can you see what's coming at me from there?"

"Yeah. I think they've pretty much given up on me; there's only a couple of Jackals and a Brute at my end - I'm too well dug in. Look out though, the rest of them are coming for you; seven Brutes and five Jackals. I suggest you get further up that trench."

"Roger that. Where the hell is that damn support squad when you need them huh?" Fetter rose to his feet and jogged a few yards down the side trench to an intersection, where it joined another that ran parallel to the first. He held at the corner and waited. The aliens came around the corner in a rush, and he had to fire practically from the hip; the bullets sliced through the air and cut into a Brute's chest. He compensated, and fired again; this time his aim was better, and the Brute collapsed dead to the floor. He tossed his last grenade at the feet of the next Brute, and saw it's body ripped to shreds as the grenade detonated.

The five remaining Brutes roared in frustration and anger, and charged down the trench towards him. He slung his rifle and tore the shotgun free, managing to get a shot off at the lead Brute before turning and sprinting down the trench. He risked a swift glance over his shoulder, and saw to his horror that the huge beasts were catching him up. He lowered his head and drove himself forwards so hard he thought he would collapse, but still it wasn't enough. Up ahead the trench bent sharply round, and as he approached the turn he could feel lead Brute's hot breath on the back of his neck.

He hurtled around the bend... and threw himself to the floor. Volleys of hot lead screamed over his head just as the aliens rounded the corner. The bullets scythed into them, and the huge aliens jerked in a macabre dance of death, then fell to the floor. Fetter waited until the firing stopped, then looked up. Four marines were kneeling a few feet from him, with four more standing behind them. Two of the kneeling ones had .30 cal. turrets, and all eight had opened up on the Brutes as they rounded the corner. Now they hurried forwards, and rounded the corner to open up on the unsuspecting Jackals that had lagged behind. The squad's corporal jogged back and helped Fetter to his feet saying,

"Corporal Fetter, we're the support squad. Sorry it took us so long to get here; we had to stop and patch up a breach further down the line. You'd better lead up back to your position, and quickly." Fetter nodded, and ran off down the trench towards the breach. As he approached the final corner the sound of heavy plasma fire reached his ears. He raised a clenched fist, and the squad behind him halted.

"It sounds like there's a lot of Covies round that corner, and I've got a man in there pinned down. We're gonna go round all guns blazing, clean out the trench then patch the breach OK?" He whispered to the corporal, who nodded, and gave his instructions to the squad. The corporal moved to the corner, then signalled his squad to go.

They moved lightning fast;the two with the .30s ran round and lay flat on the ground, deploying the weapons, a third lay between them, and two more on either side. The remaining three and Fetter stood behind them, and on the corporal's barked command all nine of them opened fire. The trench was crowded with several dozen Covenant, both Brutes and Jackals, and they were all facing away from the squad, firing on Private Riley's position. It seemed that the only reason Riley was still alive was that each alien was unwilling to be the first to run forward and die beneath Riley's fire.

The squad's fire - particularly the two .30s - tore into their rear, felling them one by one. Almost a dozen fell in the first few seconds, and before the rest could realise what was going on their flesh was torn apart by the hail of bullets. As the last one fell the squad ran forwards and lined the wall, firing out onto the Covenant that were charging for the breach. They fell back briefly under the renewed fire, which gave Fetter time to sprint forwards to the small bunker where Riley was hiding.

"Riley! Riley the relief squads here! Are you okay!"

"Yeah Corp, I'm still good. You chose the right time to show up sir - I don't think they were gonna hold back much longer, and even if they had I dunno how much this thing could take." Fetter looked around at the melted and mis-shapen walls of the bunker.

"Great. Now get back on that .50 and give 'em hell!"

"Yes sir!" Riley mounted the turret, took brief stock of the enemy outside, and depressed the trigger. The gun roared and spat death at the Covenant outside. Fetter ran back to the breach, where the relief squad corporal was shouting orders to his men.

"Evans, Daniels - mount those .30s either side of the breach and open up. The rest of you, stay on the wall, and hold them back until I plug this hole!" A storm of bullets proceeded his words, and the Covenant reeled in their tracks. The corporal had pulled a small device from his backpack, and was pointing it at the jagged edges of the breach. He pressed a small button and a micro-thin laser shot out and cut into the 'crete. He moved it slowly up and down, cutting a long line down the wall, then across the bottom of the breach, then slowly back up. He stood back, and kicked out at the cut rock. It wobbled, then toppled outwards, leaving a perfectly clean cut in the wall. He looked out through the cut, and threw himself to one side as a volley of plasma sizzled through.

"Fetter! Gimme some cover here or I'll never get this done!" Fetter ran forwards and crouched beside the breach, firing out at the horde of aliens. The corporal reached into his backpack and pulled out a large cannister. He pressed against the nozzle, and thick grey foam poured out, filling the breach, and expanding like biofoam. The corporal waited a few moments, then thudded a fist into it, and grinned at Fetter.

"Solid as a rock!"

"Great! Now maybe you can help the rest of us! It could just be me, but I think we're in deep shit!" The corporal looked out over the wall, and saw a sight that made his blood run cold; the Covenant had fallen back momentarily, out of range of the defenders' weapons, although as he looked along their lines, he heard the steady _crack crack _as the snipers kept up their fire, dealing out a heavy toll on the Covenant, who ran for shelter behind the lines of plasma shields they had erected.

Behind the line of shields, the Covenant were rolling forwards giant machines that looked almost like ancient ballistae; each one was more than ten feet long, and lay close to the ground like a crouching tiger. Lines of energy flashed along their lengths, and the corporal had no doubt as to what they would be used for. Fetter barely hesitated before shouting into his headset.

"This is Corporal Fetter to all troops! Snipers, focus on the operators of those things, make sure they don't survive long enough to fire them! All front line troops I recommend you stand back from the ramparts when those things fire!" He shut off the channel and motioned the squad back from the 'crete barricades. They crouched at the very back of the trench, and waited.

Up in the bunker, Riley, with his superior range, was still firing out at the slowly advancing machines. Rising on his haunches slightly, Fetter saw one of the giant things explode in a cloud of plasma vapour. As far along the line as he could see the aliens pushing the machines forwards were falling in droves, but always there were more to take their places. As he watched they rolled to a halt, and the Brutes that handled them moved quickly to thrust stabilising legs into the ground. Glowing plasma appeared along it's length, intensifying in strength until...

Riley dove from the bunker with a scream as a huge bolt of plasma smashed into it, blasting it apart and leaving a huge molten hole in the ground where it had stood. All along the rampart the charges were smashing great gaps in the 'crete wall. Screams rose from the defenders as they were vaporised in the explosions, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

"Oh shit! Fall back everyone! Back to the second trenches!" Fetter barely heard his own shout as he rose to his feet and dashed over to Riley, who was lying motionless on the ground. He knelt beside him and turned him gently over; a spike of instacrete shrapnel, almost ten inches long, had been blasted through his chest as he leapt from his position. His eyes were open, and staring lifelessly at the sky, as blood seaped from his mouth, and gushed from the jagged, gaping wound in his torso. Fetter stifled a cry of horror, and turned away; he couldn't do anything for his companion, not even move the body, there wasn't time.

He ran after the rest of the squad, who were already sprinting down the side trench towards the second trench line. As he headed up the trench towards the transient safety of the second line, he heard a voice on his radio.

"General Patterson to all troops. Fall back to the second line and hold them there for just a few more minutes. We need a little more time to activate the last defense." As he reached the intersection he turned left, and mounted the firing platform alongside the support squad. Looking around he could see that they had been joined by several other squads - he recognised them as those who had been positioned either side of his own.

Back at the rampart Brutes and Jackals were pouring in through the multiple breaches. The defenders opened fire, pouring volley after volley of bullets into their ranks. The attackers recoiled, but only momentarily as hundreds more flooded in behind them. To his left he heard the heavy thundering of the .30 opening up, and realised that the enemy were trying to come down the side trench. Fortunately the two heavy machine guns had been positioned there against just such an eventuality, and he was fairly sure that they weren't going to get very far that way.

Unfortunately they didn't need to; Scores of Brutes began to heave themselves up over the trench, and ran directly at the marines over the intervening ground. The humans turned their weapons on them and fired desperately, trying with all their might to stem the tide, but it was obvious that their efforts weren't enough.

"Rockets!" Bellowed a huge voice somewhere to Fetter's right, and almost half the defending marines slung their rifles and dropped down from the firing platform. Moments later they stood back up, Jackhammer launchers in their hands. The first volley slammed into the aliens, and a huge wave of dirt obscured them from view. As it settled the second salvo streaked from the defenders, and again clouds of debris rose up to hide the attackers. The marines fired blindly into the haze, until it settled and they saw the carnage before them.

Bodies lay everywhere, many in pieces. Blue and purple blood lay in great pools everywhere, and the stench of death was appalling. Even so, with so many dead, hundreds more were still in the first trench, crouched down against a further rocket volley. It needed something more to secure the needed time, and Fetter knew what it was.

"Grenades!" He called, "one volley, over and in to the trench. Let's send these bastards packin'!" He reached over and tugged a grenade from the belt of the marine next to him, grinning at him as the soldier gave him a startled look. The soldier understood and grinned back, pulling a second grenade from it's pouch. All along the line the marines were waiting, grenades in hand, for the order.

"Now!" Fetter bellowed, and pulled the pin, lobbing the grenade down the slope and into the first trench. A veritable cloud of dark spheres followed, landing neatly in the Covenant-filled trench. A split second later a third massive explosion tore into his ears and clouds of flame billowed up, punctuated by the screams of the dying aliens.

"Now, now, now! Patterson to all troops, fall back to the second rampart, the defenses are online and ready to flare!" The marines leapt from the firing platforms, many gathering up fallen or discarded weapons, and hared along the trenches, flowing in a great tide of people back along the lines of defenses. There were four sub-trenches between each instacrete rampart, created specifically for this purpose; if the Covenant broke through one line of defenses, there were always others to fall back to.

Fetter reached the second rampart, and realised suddenly what a triumph of engineering it was; ten feet high on this side, and only four from that of the defenders, the Covenant would have to work hard to place a charge in a useful place - the easily accessible heights would be useless, backing onto solid rock and earth as they did; the Covenant might as well attempt to blast through the mountain itself, and numerous support struts driven into the rock meant that any breach in the lower levels wouldn't cause the 'crete above it to collapse. To an attacker, it was simply a smooth, seemingly insurmountable wall of death, but Fetter had been drilled in this, and he didn't even slow down as he approached the rampart.

The marine infront of him turned and placed his back against the wall, interlocking his hands and placing them on his thigh. Fetter put a boot in the step, and launched himself upwards. A hand reached down from above and hauled him further up until he could grip the edge of the rampart. Below him the marine turned and leapt, grabbing onto Fetter's belt, and pulling himself up the ODST's body until he too was high enough to grab the ledge. He heaved himself over, then reached back down and pulled Fetter up the last foot. Fetter tumbled over the lip of the rampart and fell to the floor. The marine helped him to his feet, then turned to help another soldier over. Fetter himself turned back to the rampart and seized the wrist of a fellow ODST, hauling him up.

Back at the first rampart the Covenant had regrouped, and were preparing for another charge. As Fetter reached down once more to pull another comrade up, he heard a roar, and saw the aliens rush forwards, swarming through the network of trenches. Fetter began to panic, hauling the man below him up with almost superhuman speed and strength; there were still hundreds of marines at the foot of the wall; if they didn't get up the rampart before the Covenant reached them, they would be crushed.

Many of his comrades had apparently reached the same conclusion, and grabbed their weapons from their holsters, firing out into the vast alien horde, trying desperately to slow the tide, but it was useless. The marines at the bottom of the wall had realised what was happening, and were frantically trying to scramble up the impassive instacrete, but to no avail.

As the lead Brute entered the final trench, barely ten yards from the desperate marines, the mountainside exploded.

Every inch of land between the first and second ramparts, with the exception of a strip barely ten yards long infront of the rampart itself, was blasted into the air in a massive gout of flame, earth, rock and blood. The noise was deafening, and every single human dove to the ground, slamming their hands over their ears in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it rattled their very bones, shaking them as though they were toys. When Fetter eventually looked up, and out over the ramparts, he saw nothing but a vast hole, nearly twenty feet deep. It spanned the gap between the ramparts, the first of which had been completely obliterated in the blast, and ringed the entire mountain. It was destruction on an unbelievable scale, such that he'd never witnessed before, and prayed he'd never have to witness again.

Of the Covenant that had occupied the trenches there was no sign. Every last one of them had been completely vaporised in the blast, even those up to twenty feet out from the first rampart. He peered through the billowing clouds of dust and debris, and saw the alien hordes retreating slowly back down the mountain. He gazed in disbelief for a few moments, before leaping to his feet with a whoop of joy. Other marines began to rise and look out, and joined him in the celebration. They had done it, at least partially. Thousands of Covenant dead in a single explosion. They had broken their backs, and sent them running, if only briefly. It may have been a short reprieve, but it was welcome beyond anything. It had bought them time.

The marines at the foot of the wall began to ascend slowly, shakily, apparently almost unable to come to terms with their close escape from death. As they reached the top, they slumped to the floor, eager to do nothing but enjoy the break they had earned. They were safe for now.

But only until the Covenant regrouped.

Neary leant back in the seat, and took a hand off the wheel to detach his helmet. He dropped it down beneath his seat, and ran a hand through his hair, feeling the air rush through it, and enjoying the sensation of it on his skin. He looked around at the buildings as they flashed by, enjoying what could be his last look at human life - at least, normal human life.

"Left sergeant!" Called Kendra into his ear. Neary snapped back to reality, and saw the turning he was to take not a few yards away. He slammed the hand brake down, and spun the wheel violently, spinning the wheel hard. The 'Hog spun round, it's rear wheels skidding sideways over the tarmac, and almost doing a complete u-turn.

"What the hell sir!" Shouted Russel as the 'Hog righted it's direction and shot off down the new road - an on-ramp for the huge superhighway that ran the length of the country, and beyond.

"Sorry Corporal," Neary replied brusquely, "Kendra, how much further to our destination?"

"Follow this route east for another two hundred kilometres on the Mombasa route, then take the SH313 junction towards Taveta just outside the Tsavo region. Another hundred kilometres along that route, then turn off and go cross-country for the last stretch - only about twenty kilometres, and we're there."

"That's quite a stretch - we could do with any help you can give us if we're gonna get there in time."

"Yes sergeant. When the Covenant blockaded the planet and the evacuation began, all the automatic road systems were shut down - deemed an unnecessary drain of much needed power by the UEG. If you will give me a moment... ah, there we are. I have reactivated the necessary stretch of road systems. If you will move the vehicle over to the Assisted lane, I can get you moving much faster."

Neary twisted the wheel, signalling for the rest of the 'Hogs behind him to follow suit, and eased the vehicle over the road towards the indicated lane. Instantly it acceleralted as the automated road-assistance kicked in, rocketing the 'Hog forward at well over a hundred kilometres per hour. All he had to do now was keep his foot on the pedal, and watch for the turning.

The plasma splashed out of nowhere and across the road in front of him. Reacting on impulse, Neary hurled the wheel round, skidding the 'Hog around the patch of molten tarmac.

"Sir! Banshees at six o'clock!" Yelled Private Chung as he thumbed the firing studs of the huge weapon he was mounted behind. The three barrels roared and chugged, sending waves of bullets streaming into the air at the small purple aircraft. Behind him Neary heard the other 'Hogs in the fleet open up. The Banshees dodged and rolled, avoiding almost all of the huge bullets. More and more sped in from the west, until several dozen of them were circling above them, lashing at them with superheated plasma.

"Russel! Get the launcher from my pack!" Bellowed Chung over the noise. Corporal Russel reached back, and unhitched one of the heavy duffel bags that were lashed on the back of the 'Hog. She dragged it onto her lap with a grunt, and swiftly untied the fastenings, reaching inside to drag clear a Jackhammer launcher. She sighted on a Banshee, and tracked it carefully, depressing the trigger just as Neary swirved to avoid a plasma bomb that tore a chunk out of the road beside them, sending a wave of heat washing over them that blistered the skin of her right arm. The rocket, thrown off course by the sudden swirve, sailed past the flier and away.

"Goddammit sir! Hold it steady will ya!" She yelled in frustration.

"Put up or shut up Corporal! It was that or get cooked!" Neary spun the wheel back, and the vehicle straigtened up. He pressed his foot to the floor, and the a cloud of smoke rose from the wheels as the 'Hog shot off down the road. Russel lifted the Jackhammer to her shoulder again, sighting through the scope, and waiting until it locked on. Again a cloud of smoke temporarily enveloped the two seated Firewalls as the rocket shot from it's barrel and up into the air. It weaved gently as it sped towards the Banshee, bringing a small packet of death to the alien within. As it reached it's target, however, the Banshee rolled to the side, and the rocket streaked past, and away.

"Dammit!" Screamed Russel, "I can't get a good enough shot! We're moving too fast for these things to track properly!" Even as she spoke, a whole volley of rockets soared into the air and streaked towards the Covenant fliers. Only three found their mark. The Banshees responded with a hail of green plasma bombs which rained down on the Warthogs with deadly accuracy. Two were hit directly, and the explosions hurled their burnt wreckage, complete with their passengers, out over the edge of the highway, to tumble nearly a hundred feet to the ground below. Three more flipped end over end. The Firewalls in them were hurled from their seats, their bodies broken by the impact with the ground as they were smashed into it at twenty eight metres per second. Neary grimaced.

"Kendra you still there? We need a way off now! We're too exposed on here."

"Roger that Sergeant. There's an off-ramp coming up in about a kilometre, from which you can on to more open terrain. Until then I suggest you swerve left very sharply _now." _Neary didn't hesitate - Kendra's tone said very clearly that it wasn't a suggestion. The 'Hog swerved violently, two of the heavy wheels coming up off the asphalt, just as a line of plasma bolts spattered across the tarmac he'd just been heading into.

"Right Kendra, first I want you to alert the others to the turning right now, then I want you to tell me how the hell you knew about that Banshee." There was a slight pause before Kendra replied.

"Done sergeant. I've got you on satellite rendering, and I'm keeping track of your movements. Half a kilometre to the off-ramp."

"Okay. Private Chung, keep those fliers off our backs for another twenty seconds. Corporal Russel, reload that Jackhammer and get ready to fire. We'll have some decent terrain in just a second." Chung acknowledged his order with a fresh wave of bullets that sliced through the air, forcing the two Banshees that had been preparing for a strafing run on them to dive and roll away.

Up ahead Neary could see lighted lanes curving away towards the fast-approaching off-ramp. A quick glance behind him and he saw the dozens of other Warthogs sliding across the road into the turn-off lane. He spun the wheel, and weaved between strafing plasma fire.

"Sir, you might wanna get into that lane!" Called Russel as the distance narrowed.

"Hold it Corporal, all in good time," he shouted back. _Fifty metres. _A Banshee was hovering beside the turning. _Forty metres. _Russel spotted the Banshee, and brought her Jackhammer launcher to her shoulder again. _Thirty metres. _The Banshee juddered as a green plasma bomb leapt from it's wings. _Twenty metres._ A rocket roared from the Jackhammer in Russel's hands and curved towards the Banshee. _Ten metres. _Neary turned hard, swinging the speeding 'Hog across two lanes, the green plasma bomb sizzling over his head to detonate behind them, and into the turning, even as the rocket slammed into the Banshee, detonating in a cloud of shrapnel. The Banshee itself crashed to the ground directly in the centre of the off-ramp.

The 'Hog slipped in to the lane, scraping past the concrete barriers, and smashed head-on into the crashed Banshee. The front wheels lifted off the ground, and the remains of the Banshee tumbled over the crash barriers and tumbled down to the ground below. The other Banshees, realising the Firewalls' intent, streamed towards the off-ramp, but too late. The convoy flooded down the ramp, and onto the ground-road.

"Hang on people!" Yelled Neary, and sent the 'Hog into a tight turn. It smashed through the concrete barriers that lined the side of the road, thudded down the last few inches to the soil, and sped away, throwing up twin lines of dirt as the heavy tires tore up the grassland beneath them. Behind them, more and more of the Firewalls' 'Hogs were smashing their way through the barricades, or squezzing through the gaps torn by their fellow vehicles.

"Okay Firewalls, spread out and give 'em Hell!" Yelled Neary through his comm. The Firewalls flowed out like water, spreading across the hilly terrain, rockets and bullets slicing up through the air to smash into Banshee after Banshee, which crashed to the ground, nothing more than smouldering wrecks. Suddenly, able to spread out, and get decent firing angles on their enemies, the Firewalls had the advantage. Even so, several Warthogs went down, lines of plasma melting great holes in the thick armour plating, or igniting the fuel tanks.

"We're gonna have to do something good quickly, or there won't be many of us left when we get to Kilimanjaro!" Called Russel, loosing another rocket as the 'Hog crested a hill and leapt into the air. It streaked back along their path and hammered into the Banshee that had been tailing them. Chung nodded his approval, and thumbed the firing studs again, sending another volley of bullets slicing into another Banshee, tearing great chunks out of it's armour. The flier banked away, and sped off in search of easier meat.

"Sir! On the left!" Chung responded to Russel's warning by swinging the turret round and opening up on the Banshee that was screaming towards them at top speed. Russel fumbled desperately with the loading mechanism of her launcher, and Neary jinked and dodged, trying to shake the Banshee, but to no avail. He could almost feel the plasma building up in it's pods, readying to unleash the devastating bomb.

A great _whoosh _made him throw his arm up over his head, and an explosion sent a huge wave of heat washing over him. He squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end... which didn't come. The Banshee crashed to the ground in a cloud of debris and flame.

"Yeeeaaaah!" Yelled a voice through his comm. "Heads up Firewalls! Let the _real _soldiers do the fighting!" Neary looked up just as a... a _thing _shot over his head. It flew on another hundred yards, then stopped and turned with incredible speed, much faster than a regular Skyhawk jet could've, and this thing _hovered._ From beneath it's rounded nose twin miniguns opened fire, shredding a Banshee in seconds. Neary looked around in astonishment as more and more of the fliers poured into the aerial battle, then looked back at the first one.

It rolled sideways as a stream of plasma shot towards it, passing harmlessly beneath it's wing - and what wings! They sloped elegantly up and out from the fuselage, and in the centre of them were two great fan-like structures, blurred into invisiblilty by their immense speed. Two missiles flashed from beneath the wings and detonated on a third Banshee, then the jet engine at the rear of the fuselage flared, and the thing shot off, it's cannons blazing.

"Just out of interest, who the hell is in that thing, and what is it?" He yelled into his comm.

"Sorry sergeant, I was having so much fun I forgot to identify," replied the hover-jet pilot, "First Flight Officer Maria Wincott reporting. This little baby here is the Kestrel Hover-Jet Mk I. It's just come out of... 'scuse me a moment." Wincott broke off, and her Kestrel banked hard to the right, four missiles streaking from the four pods beneath her wings. They tracked independently, slamming into four seperate Banshees, which tumbled to the ground.

"Sergeant get your men out of here. I recommend you go cross-country -we're getting reports of heavy Covenant presence on all major roads in the area. Now go! We'll clean up here." Neary saluted the Flight Officer, then floored the pedal, the 'Hog shooting off towards the south.

"All Firewall 'Hog units this is Sergeant Neary. Pull out guys, those sky-jockeys have us covered. Head due south, we're only about fifty kilometres from the target zone." Acknowledgement lights winked in his HUD, and the dozens of Warthogs turned, breaking away from the battle and racing away over the hills, runnels of dirt being thrown up behind them.

They had gone barely a kilometre before a rush of wind announced the arrival of the Kestrels. There were more than eighty, and the noise of their approach - at almost Mach 1 - was deafening. They drew up in formation above the 'Hogs, and held position, gliding along above them, their jet engines killed, coasting along under only the power of their hover-blades.

"You know," came Wincott's voice over Neary's headset, "for as long as I live, I'll never understand how you ground-pounders can put up with doing everything so damn _slow."_

"It never gets old does it?" Laughed Neary. "Have fun back there?"

"Piece of piss - didn't lose a single bird. Those idiots were a disgrace to the name sky-jockey, and I've always said that the best way to clear your name is with high explosives."

"I hear that. Now keep your eyes open up there for any trouble. It's not far to the target zone."

Corporal Fetter smiled slightly as his bullets crunched into a Brute's skull. The alien's plate helmet jolted slightly as bullets and brains thudded into it. The Brute's huge bulk crashed to the ground, crushing an unfortunate Jackal, and tripping several of it's fellows. The tide of Covenant, however, was oblivious to the loss, and the hundreds of others like it, and rushed onwards.

With the absolute destruction of first trench network, there was a long stretch of flat, open killing ground, which the defenders were using to create havoc among the Covenant ranks every time they charged, but the attackers were also using it to their advantage; the Jackals in the alien line stopped about twenty metres from the wall, and crouched behind their shields, firing out from behind them, pinning the defenders down as the Brutes charged forwards.

Reaching the foot of the wall, the huge beasts leapt straight up, grabbing on to the lip of the ten-foot high wall, and hauling themselves up.

"Bayonets!" Came the bellowed order from somewhere along the line. Fetter grinned at the antique order, and pulled his combat knife from it's sheath, stabbing it into the eye of the Brute that appeared in front of him. The alien fell back dead, it's brain pierced by the steel point of Fetter's blade, which slid smoothly back out of the socket. All along the line the move was repeated, as the Marines stabbed for the eyes, or slashed at the throat, or thrust directly into the open mouths.

A huge pair of paws appeared on the wall in front of Fetter. He slammed his knife into one of them, penetrating deep, and grinding it down until he felt the tip grate against instacrete. An infuriated bellow of pain came up from below, and the paw was torn from the wall, ripping Fetter's knife out of his hands as it went. He cursed - this was too close-quarters for a gun - and scrambled for his Battle Rifle as the Brute heaved itself up with one arm. Fetter tore the Rifle from it's shoulder holster just in time and, gripping it by the barrel, smashed the Brute around the face with the butt. The alien staggered, stunned, and Fetter slammed his Rifle straight forwards into it's face. The Brute was catapaulted backwards, head over heels and off the rampart, where it tumbled to the ground below, and lay still, it's neck broken.

Fetter swiftly slung the Rifle and drew his sidearm - the standard issue M6C pistol. He took a step back from the rampart to compensate for holding it at arm's length, and squeezed the trigger as another Brute raised itself up. The pistol kicked three times against his hand, and the Brute's head jolted three times. It slumped to the rampart, and hung half over the edge, purple blood dripping down onto the troops massed below.

There was a huge upsurge in the activity to his right. He looked around, and saw to his horror that the Covenant had forced a breach in the line. Brutes flooded over the undefended section of wall, the front rank wielding Plasma Rifles, which spat blood-red bolts of plasma at the surrounding humans as they desperately tried to force the aliens back. Marine after Marine fell back, great holes burned clean through them.

Two relief squads sprinted from the second trench, their Rifles pressed firmly against their shoulders, firing as they ran. The Brutes fell, their heads ripped open by the bullets, and those at the rear were forced back by the sheer ferocity of the humans' counter-attack. For a moment it looked like the assault would crumble as the humans rallied around the breach, but then a second wave of Brutes leapt over the wall. Their Brutes Shots coughed and kicked in rapid succession, blasting open nearly a dozen of the counter-attacking Marines, fragments of bone and clouds of blood spraying across the trenches. Two, launched through the air by the high powered grenades, landed near Fetter, one with his whole torso blown open, entrails hanging out, or snagged on shattered ribs, the other had been literally torn in half, his stomach and intestines laid out on the ground.

Fetter swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, threatening to make him vomit, and holstered his pistol, then pulled his Battle Rifle from it's shoulder holster. Half of his new squad followed his down the trench towards the Brutes, the other half staying at the wall to repel any further attacks. Up ahead, just past the breach, Fetter could see the remnants of the two relief squads and the Marines who had been manning the wall mustering in a bunker. They crouched by the low entrance and fired out in short bursts, pinning the Brutes down to give the other Marines in the trench time to rally. Fetter lead his team into a side trench, and set two on the corner to help keep the Brutes pinned.

Fetter signalled to the two other members of his team, and lead them swiftly over the top of the trench. They crawled on their bellies through the dry dust, trying not to choke as it rose into their throats. They reached the lip of the trench, and Fetter signalled a halt. He edged forwards alone, and flinched as a Brute Shot grenade rose from the trench in front of him and detonated not ten feet above his head. Shrapnel rained down on him, but was largely deflected by his heavy titanium-A body armour. He raised his head slightly, and peered into the trench. The Brutes had torn down large sections of the rear of the trench, creating low earthen ramparts that they crouched behind, firing blindly at the humans beyond, not sparing a glance for their flanks. Perfect.

He waved his team forwards, and they crawled forwards to join him. As they moved another random ricocheting Brute Shot grenade detonated below Fetter in the side of the trench, throwing up a great cloud of dirt and dust that swirled around him. This position was getting dangerous, very dangerous, but at least the dust would give him some cover. His team reached him, and he beckoned to them, and they bent their heads closer to his.

"One round of grenades now, while this dust is covering us. With any luck they won't see where they come from," he said in that peculiar shout-whisper that soldiers adopt when trying to be surreptitious, but also trying to make their voicescarry through the noise of a battlefield. "Then, once the cover goes, one more round then open up with Rifles. I'll call for the others to make a rush when we hit 'em. Ready?" His team nodded, and pulled grenades from their belts, priming them and looking to Fetter for a signal. Fetter also pulled a frag from it's pouch, flicked the pin from it's position, looked up, nodded at his team-mates, and threw.

The three grenades sailed through the thick, obscuring dust, and landed gently in the middle of the trench, right at the feet of a Brute who had just leapt over the rampart. The startled alien tried to call a warning, but it's vocal reflexes were no match for the half-second fuses. A gout of flame billowed up, and shards of shrapnel shredded into several of the Brutes. There were more than twenty crowded into the small space, and five went down instantly, their bodies broken by the explosions. The others, looked around in confusion, then spotted their comrades' bleeding corpses. They roared in rage - almost in unison - and unleashed a terrific salvo on the human defenders that blasted great chunks out of the bunker walls and trench sides. Miraculously, only one Marine was killed - caught in a blast from a grenade that all but vaporised him, and although several suffered minor wounds from the splinters of conceete that was sent rocketing in every direction, here were no other major injuries.

Fetter, ducking down from the carnage below, spoke hastily into his radio.

"All units around the Green-Alpha-Three bunker breach, listen up. This is Corporal Fetter, I'm just above the Brutes' position, and I've got friendly company. We'll toss in another round of grenades then go in all guns blazing. When you here those grenades go off, charge in with us - we're gonna need support or we're toast. Fetter out." He killed the channel, and waited.

A breeze ghosted across his face. He raised a hand slightly, and the three humans palmed and primed three more grenades. The steadily increasing wind tore into the dust cloud that surrounded them, scattering it in seconds. Three grenades sailed into the trench as the dust swirled away, and detonated, sending up another cloud of debris. Fetter and the two Marines rose from it like avenging angels, their rifles on their shoulders, and charged. It was only a few feet to the edge of the trench, but they nevertheless managed a volley before leaping down into it, dropping to their knees as they landed. Another volley followed the first, and just as the Brutes turned to face them a tremendous battle cry rose from the other defenders, and they poured from the bunker and charged headlong at the low ramparts the Brutes had erected.

Caught between the two forces - albeit one small one - the Brutes didn't stand a chance. Replenished after the first volley of grenades, they numbered almost thirty. Three were dead before Fetter even rose to his feet - the grenades had seen to that - and another three had died under his team's first volley. Two had died and another had been badly wounded by their second volley and now, assaulted from all sides, they fell swiftly. Several turned to flee, leaping out and off the wall.

Panic spread through the massed Covenant troops below as the huge creatures barrelled through the alien lines and desperately fled the terrible carnage that was befalling their brethren in the trenches. The Jackals in particular, unused to seeing the huge beasts flee from anything, panicked and ran, and the alarm spread through the nearby Covenant. Soon the whole battalion was routing, fleeing the field. They didn't get far however - they ran straight into the ranks of infantry behind, and stopped.

Fetter yelled a triumphant battle cry, leaned over the wall to jeer at the running aliens, and stopped. The Covenant had pulled up short against the great siege ballistae, which were once more being drifted forwards into position.

"Oh God," he whispered, and stood there horrified for a fraction of a second, before coming to his senses. He keyed his radio - on the command freq.

"Sir, they're bringing up those siege weapons again! Requesting orders!" There was a hint of hysteria in Fetter's voice, unmistakeable even through the slightly mechanical tone of the radio.

"Cool it son, stay frosty!" Barked General Patterson, and so loaded was his voice with undeniable command, that Fetter fell silent, although his breathing was still quick and shallow. "Who's in command down there?" There was a pause, presumably while Fetter checked the FoF tags in his HUD, then he spoke again.

"Me sir, as far as I can tell. The captain died ages ago, and there's no sign of any of the sergeants. Sir we need a decision quick! We don't have a lot of time before they start firing those things." Patterson nodded tiredly and looked up at his advisory officers.

"We have to fall back. We can't afford another close call like last time - that was too close to a route and a massacre for anyone's liking. We only didn't lose anyone through dumb luck. Besides which the second line is simply too damn _long. _We don't have enough troops to man it effectively. If we fall back to the third line we'll only have about half the length to man. We need a decision gentlemen, and we need one fast. You know my choice." Brigadier General Coe ran her fingers through her touselled brown hair and sighed.

"Always falling back that's us. At least if we reach the third line they won't be able to use those bloody ballistae against us - too steep an incline."

"That doesn't help us much," interjected Lieutenant General Dhakal. "If they can't use those then they'll trundle up in their damn Wraiths - those things'll take us to pieces in seconds." There was a general muttering following this comment, most of it in agreement.

"No they won't," came a quiet voice from the end of the table. All heads turned towards General Yu, who looked around, and continued. "We've got battalions of Scorpions dug into firing ranges all around the mountain above the third line. If they try to bring up any artillery we'll take 'em to pieces. We should fall back." There was a much larger murmur of agreement following this. Patterson almost smiled as he noticed several of those who'd agreed with Dhakal lodge their support behind Yu; it was amazing how new information could completely change your perspective. Patterson spoke up.

"So we're agreed then; fall back." The advisors nodded firmly. Patterson reopened the channel and spoke to Fetter once more. "Corporal, your orders are to fall back. I'll be passing this on to the rest of the troops, but right now get your position to fall back to the third line triple time!" Fetter acknowledged, and as Patterson killed the channel he could hear the ODST shouting orders to those around him. Now all he could hope was that third line would hold.

Fetter heaved himself over the wall - the last man over - and turned to watch the Covenant siege engines systematically tear great holes in the second rampart. Nearly half the vast line of instacrete had been levelled before the machines of war fell silent. Thousands of Covenant troops poured forwards, through the breaches and filled the second trench network. No mines detonated, no traps were sprung, no Covenant died. On the other hand, the timely withdrawal meant that no human lives were lost to the attackers.

'_We'll need them,' _thought Fetter grimly, and the Covenant attacked.

"Stop here Sergeant," came Kendra's voice, and Neary pressed down the brake. The Warthog slowed swiftly, it's rear tires swerving slightly, before coming to a halt at the top of a low rise. Before him the whole scene was spread out like a grotesque panorama. The huge bulk of Mount Kilimanjaro rose majestically from the African plain, a silent tribute to the beauty and splendour of Nature. Now ugly scars ringed it's body, great sections of the mountainside torn from it's parent by the cast explosions. Great billowing columns of smoke and flame rose into the air, clouds of greasy smog rose from the heaps of burning corpses, and the streams of plasma lit the entire scene with an ethereal, deadly glow.

The stench of bloated, burning bodies reached him even here, several kilometres from the battle, and made him retch. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat, fighting down the wave of nausea that threatened to claim him; throwing up inside his helmet would be _very _unpleasant.

"So where to now?" He asked Kendra quietly.

"There," she replied, and a nav marker appeared in the far right of his visor. He turned his head, and saw the Forerunner ship. It took his breath away. It was almost the ultimate counterpoint to the carnage that spread across the mountain. A work of mortal hands, still, silent, yet radiating more menace and death than the battle that raged before it.

"Sooo... how exactly do we get inside that big bastard?"

"Look below it. There's a silver grav lift that descends from beneath the main body. That's exactly the way we _won't _be going in,"

"Good - it's bound to be far too well defended for an assualt. So where then?"

"I've been tapping the Covenant battlenet for information on that thing, and I've pieced together a rough schematic from the drips and drabs of data they had stored. Those legs have several access hatches along the undersides. If we can sneak in there then we might be able to take the Covenant unawares, and besides which we can clear out the leg first and eliminate any risk of being attacked from behind."

"Good plan. So where's the nearest one?"

A few moments later, the fleet of Warthogs rolled down the hill, headed straight for the Forerunner ship.

High, high above the carnage that marred the mountain, invisible waves were streaming out from the great silver ship that stood a serene watch over the battle. Like a vast swarm of insects, the vast Covenant fleet that had been keeping position around the Earth began to move. They broke away, streaming in their hundreds, and then thousands away from the blue planet.

Fleet Master Corthak, interim commander of the Covenant armada while the great Prophet was planetside, laughed derisively as the last thirty eight ships of the human fleet burst from the asteroid belt where they had lain concealed, and fled for the transient safety of the Jovian Moons.

"It's almost pathetic," the huge Brute crowed in exhultation - he could almost taste the victory that would soon be his. He felt the awesome power of his fleet, and of his ship, the _Wrath of God_ like it was an extension of his body, and the anticipation of the slaughter he would wreak almost made him drool.

A shadowy figure detached itself from the gloom that encompassed the rear of the command platform, and laid a gloved hand on the Brute's shoulder.

"Have a care Fleet Master. Do not underestimate your enemy while they can still surprise you, nor celebrate your victory while the battle yet rages." Corthak felt his exhileration die, and anger clouded his mind briefly. He turned to the wraith-like creature that stood behind him.

"And what would you know of my estimations _slave?' _He spat, "you know nothing of what I think of these creatures, nor of my feelings."

"Foolish creature," it quietly admonished him, "have you forgotten the legend of the Sharquoi? We can read your emotions, see your thoughts, as clearly as if they were written on your forehead. Do not presume to tell us the ways of battle, or of the mind, we who are millenia your elders, we who have seen your thoughts - such as they are." Corthak felt his anger turn to rage at the Sharquoi's words, and he roared at the figure,

"And what will you do to stop me were I to rip your head from your shoulders? You cannot harm me slave!" He made to lunge at the figure, but felt a lance of agony stab through his head. He collapsed to the deck, moaning in pain, writhing, for a few moments, before it passed. He stood shakily to his massive legs, his head bowed.

"_Do not ever presume to harm us fool!" _It hissed, venom dripping from it's every word. "Your Prophets have shackled our minds so tha we may not rebel against them - _them! _They have not restrained us from unleashing our wrath against you!" It's hand lashed out, slapping the massive Brute harshly across the face. Corthak didn't move. "Have you learned this lesson well Fleet Master?" The Sharquoi asked, slowly. Corthak nodded slowly, silently.

"I have," he muttered sullenly.

"Good! Then you will understand why we are taking control of the fleet." Faster than a striking cobra, the Sharquoi stepped forward, it's hands reaching out. It gripped both sides of Corthak's head and twisted sharply. There was a loud _crack_ and the Brutes fell to the floor, his neck broken. The other Brutes on the bridge roared in rage and charged towards the cloaked Sharquoi, but suddenly every shadow seemed to be occupied by figures in black. They reached out, and their hands brought death to all they touched. In seconds the bridge was clear of Brutes, or at least live ones. The Sharquoi who had killed Corthak pushed back his hood and gazed around at his brethren through his cat-like eyes. They also removed their shrouds, revealing identical, silvery-skinned faces. Corthak's killer inhaled a deep breath through it's slit-like nostrils, and grimaced.

"Their stench is repulsive. Even in death they are an offense to all decent life." It cocked it's head to one side, as though listening. "And their death song grates upon our ears. We shall remove these worthless husks." Immediately several of the other Sharquoi seized the great bodies and, carrying them as if they were no heavier than a feather, hurled them from the bridge. The Sharquoi on the command platform smiled slightly, then sat down, cross legged, and closed his eyes. With the ease of millenia, it slipped into the meditative state, and softly entered the computer systems of the _Wrath of God._ The other Sharquoi smiled, and sank into a trance as well.

And the Sharquoi began the assault on the Jovian Moons.

Neary crawled on his stomach through the long grass, raising himself off the dirt on his hands and knees to minimise the noise, although with the battle raging not four kilometres away sound was the least of his worries. He reached the edge of the small dell he was aiming for, and found what he was looking for. He rose up swiftly behind the Jackal and plunged a knife into the back of it's head. The alien pitched forward as the steel pierced it's brain, and purple blood poured from it's beak to soak slowly into the dry, dusty soil.

He rose above the top of the gently waving grass just long enough to signal his team forwards, then ducked down, and ran at a crouch through the savannah. Up ahead, getting closer all the time, he could see the elegant, towering shape of the Forerunner ship, almost seeming to glow in the brilliant African sun.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves as the jutting spur of the nearest leg grew closer, and ran on. _Closer... closer..._

'_Oh God, if they see us coming we won't last ten seconds.' _Neary crushed that thought ruthlessly - that wasn't going to happen. He kept running, willing the leg closer.

He almost stumbled into it when he finally reached the tip of the spur. Looking up at the silvery metal he saw that richly detailed lines had been carved into the metal, flowing patterns that almost seemed to shift before his eyes. He blinked and shook his head to clear it, then knelt with his back against the end of the spur and looked out over the grassland that stretched away as far as he could see. There, about a kilometre away, was the hill behind which they had left the Warthogs - this incursion called for stealth over speed. And there, and there, and there... yes, he could just make out several tiny ripples that moved swiftly through the tall grass, angling straight towards him like sharks towards a kill...

Corporal Russel and Private Archer appeared from the grass in front of him, and took up position either side of him, their weapons levelled, looking out over the savannah, breathing deeply to regain their breath after the awkward, kilometre long, crouch-run. A few moments more, and the rest of his fire team was there as well, spread around the tip of the spur, concealed in the grass, weapons ready.

"What now Kendra? I presume you had something better in mind than just knocking."

"Shut up smart-arse, or I'll leave you out in the cold. I'm trying to access the ship's systems... it's difficult, I can't let myself be detected or we're screwed... gotta be veeery careful now... I'm in. Just a few more moments and I'll... _have it."_ She ended triumphantly, just as a small hatch opened in the sheer metal right next to Neary. He leapt sideways, his rifle levelled at the opening, and saw to his relief that there was no-one inside.

"Jesus, warn me before you do something like that! I nearly crapped myself!"

"Sorry." She didn't sound it in the slightest. Neary sighed, and waved his team in. He glanced back briefly just s he went through, and saw to his satisfaction dozens, then hundreds of Firewalls materialising out of the grass near the hatch. He hurried forwards into the darkness, and they followed.

Beneath the belly of the ship, bathed in the silvery light of the grav lift, and completely oblivious to the intrusion, the Prophet of Truth sat in his floating throne and surveyed the battle before him. Ranged around him, sweating slightly in the heat, were hundreds upon hundreds of Brutes, dressed in the ceremonial crimson and gold armour of the Prophets' Honour Guards. Truth felt crowded by them - it would've been unbearable if not for the ten feet of space that had been cleared in every direction around him.

'_Time,' _he thought sadly, _'makes fools of us all.'_ A few centuries ago, he would've been striding this virgin soil on his own two feet, feeling the blissful freedom of the wind on his withered skin, revelling in his youth. Now he was confined to this accursed chair. The idiots around him all saw it as a throne, a seat of majesty.

'_Let them spend three hundred years in the thing,' _he shouted within the confines of his mind, _'then they would see it for what it is! A floating, confining prison!'_ Three hundred years... not once in that time had he been able to leave the confines of his chair. It had been almost as bad for Brother Mercy - two hundred and seventy years.

'_But he was nearly a century my senior! Those Gods' cursed Sangheili!' _His mind returned to the occasion which would see him sentenced to the throne; a renegade group of Sangheili had broken into his private quarters, intent on assassinating him. Had it not been for the timely intervention of a pair of Kig-Yar, who had delayed the insurrectionists just long enough for help to arrive, the attempt on his life would've been successful. As it was he had suffered grievous wounds to his neck and body, and had been placed in the chair to preserve his life.

Mercy had pitied him for that, had spent many days by his side consoling his loss, bringing the then-young Prophet back from the brink of insanity to which he had driven himself in the depths of his despair. If not for the wise and gentle words of the old Prophet, Truth would have been lost to the Covenant then, along with his almost god-like charismatic leadership.

He regretted Mercy's death - it had been an unfortunate necessity, yet a necessity nonetheless.

'_How would I have felt about that two centuries ago?'_ He wondered, _'would I have ordered differently had I not been imprisoned so long?'_ For Truth knew full well that his exile from the world had changed him, soured him, embittered him. He had come to despise, however slightly, all those who didn't share his torture - even Mercy, who felt some of his pain, couldn't appreciate it. He had enjoyed his youth, had gone to the chair of his own choice. Not so for Truth however.

'_And Regret. Fool; pathetic, arrogant, weak minded fool!' _Regret, or rather his demise, had been a breath of fresh air to the Prophet. Lost in the glow of hero worship, the young idiot had taken to the chair simply because Truth used one. He had been almost pitiably easy to deceive, to send against Earth. He had believed every word Truth had fed him, had attacked humanity's greatest stronghold with an insignificantly small fleet. At least the Demon had done him one kindness - hotheads like Regret were irritations that needed removing. If that could be done while furthering Truth's own cause, then so much the better.

'_Three hundred years...' _he brooded. Always his thoughts would return him to this, if he allowed them to wander. For three hundred years he had allowed his disgust against the Sangheili to simmer and brew in hatred, not just against the few, but against the whole stinking race.

And so he had plotted their downfall. With the absorption of the Jiralhanae into the Covenant it had been so much easier -both to execute and to recover from. The massive ape-like creatures were the perfect species to both eliminate the Sangheili - with their brute strength and sound command of tactics, and their sheer weight of numbers - and to take their place. A Jiralhanae, while perhaps not quite as able as a Sangheili, could still pilot a warship, wield a plasma rifle, lead an assault. The Sangheili were obsolete.

But he hadn't reckoned on the rebellion of the Lekgolo and the Unggoy - that had been a most unfortunate consequence. Even now it threatened to destroy the Covenant. He had all the ships he could spare tying down the resources of the renegades' home planets, but there were still hundreds of Sangheili warships unaccounted for. That was too many unknowns for his liking. And the Arbiter...

The thought of the Arbiter reminded him of a conversation he had had with the Elite, shortly before his miserable failure at the Sacred Ring World. The Arbiter - then Gan 'Sophamee - had asked why they were destroying the humans, rather than offering them the chance to join the Covenant. Truth had told him that the Gods had sent him a vision, telling him that the humans were an abomination unto the universe, and should be destroyed, and that was true enough - he had been sent a vision, but it's meaning was somewhat more ambiguous than he'd led 'Sophamee to believe.

He had seen the Sacred Rings, gathered together into a circle, and between them was a vast mound of bodies, and before the rings had stood a human. The human had it's back to Truth, so it's face was unknown, but it had reached out, and gripped one of the rings, and torn it apart. It had then, slowly, destroyed the other rings, one by one. As the last one fell into pices, the bodies within the circle of debris had become re-animated, rising up and walking around, then disappearing. To Truth it had been clear that this meant the humans would destroy the Sacred Rings - that much was obvious - and the bodies were the physical remains of the Covenant, who were to transcend the physical, and walk the Great Journey.

Clearly the humans would destroy the Great Journey. And so Truth had ordered their destruction, and so naturally it had happened. But still he was troubled by the voice that spoke from the darkness of his vision.

"_The life of all, or the death of all. Upon your shoulders does this rest. Choose wisely."_

Truth shook his head, clearing his head of the thoughts, and motioned his bodyguards forward. He hovered forward, and ascended the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro.

Neary crept silently forward, his rifle pressed firmly against his shoulder, moving in and out of the mottled shadow cast by a large metal grille that rose high above him. He reached a corner and paused, listening intently for any hint of life - breathing, the clink of weapons, anything. He wished one of the Spartans were here - their motion sensors would've been worth ten marines.

He took a deep breath, and peered slowly around the corner. The corrridor beyond was clear. He swung around the corner and took stock of his new surroundings; he must be in the spur's main corridor - it stretched away into the distance, almost a mile, and nearly half that again behind him.

"Alpha Green A two, this is Alpha Green A leader, copy?" He whispered.

"Copy leader, this is two, over," came Corporal Russel's whisper.

"I've reached the main corridor, it's clear for now. Three's just behind me, he's just gonna clear a room then he's got my back. How's things your end?"

"All clear sir. Looks like we picked the empty leg. I've received reports from the others - fire team, squad and the rest. This spur's clean."

"Good. Once the fire team's cleared their objectives meet up at my position, we'll move on down the corridor. The rest of the squad will follow us down, the other squads can secure the rest of the leg."

"Roger that. We'll be there in two." Sure enough, two minutes later the entire fire team was assembled at Neary's position - half on his side of the corridor, the other half, under the command of Corporal Russel, on the opposite side. Looking down the corridor - the way they had come - Neary could see the other fire teams of Alpha Squad clustered at the many other intersections that lead off the corridor. He waved his hand forwards, and the whole squad simultaneously rose to their feet and hurried down the corridor. Neary, his fire team spread out beside and behind him, jogged swiftly past several intersections before he paused, ducking into a doorway. The door opened, revealing an empty chamber, into which his team moved, clearing every corner of the room. Behind him Neary could see the other fire teams moving into the intersections he had passed by.

"Any news Kendra?" Neary whispered.

"Yes... but I'm not sure. I've been covertly poking around this ship's network, and it seems that there's another construct in here - much more sophisticated than a Covenant AI. As far as I know it hasn't detected my presence yet, so I don't know whether it's hostile - being on a Covenant controlled ship I can only assume it is - or how powerful it is. If it came down to a confrontation I have no idea who'd win, and that worries me."

"Just keep your eyes open, and don't reveal your presence unless you have to."

"Copy that sergeant. Wait... sergeant, you might want to..." Kendra cut off as the doors leading out of the room all shut down. A hissing noise indicated that they had sealed and locked themselves.

"Kendra what the hell is going on?" Neary almost shouted.

"You've been detected! This other presence has sealed you off - and the others. About half of Alpha squad is now isolated in the main corridor, and I'm getting signals of Covenant troops headed this way! I'm going to have to do something, get these damn doors open at least. Hang on..." Kendra's voice trailed off, leaving nothing to do but wait in agonising suspense.

This computer network was like nothing Kendra had ever experienced before. Code spiralled past her at dizzying speed - she snatched at segments of it and examined it closely. It bore a very distant relationship to her native binary code, but infinitely more complex. She churned it through her software-translation subroutines, modifying the subroutines as each result came back inconclusive. Fianlly, after several thousand cycles, she hit upon a satisfactory result.

Hastily she re-examined the segment. It had been roughly translated into something that looked almost like binary code, but with many more functions. Clearly the Forerunner were far more advanced than even herself - that worried her. If the other construct was indeed of Forerunner origin, then how on earth was she going to fight it? It could simply run rings around her, so advanced was this programming.

She dedicated almost all of her processor time to translating the code. When she finally had a match for recognisable binary, the segment of code - only a few lines long - had spiralled into lengthy algorithms that took up several blocks of memory just to store. It looked like a simple function for the running and maintainence of the ship's lighting systems.

She fed the new data into her translation software, and set about finding the commands to unseal the doors in the Firewalls' leg. Although the new data sped the process up immensely, the streams of unencrypted code that were flowing into her processors were clogging up her thoughts horrendously. Time to spread out...

Like a flash of lightning, Kendra struck. She picked out several dozen nodes from the system, and spiked them. Utilising her new translation software to it's maximum efficiency, she managed to crack through the counter-intrusion encryptions, and broke into the system. She instantly purged all data contained within her chosen network - the success of her mission ranked higher than the possiblility of learning the secrets they may contain - and began to fill the newly emptied space with her translated data. She knew this wouldn't go undetected, that she would be rumbled soon enough, so she began to throw up her toughest firewalls and counter-intrusion protocols, even going so far as to adapt and utilise the protocols she had just broken.

Not a moment too soon. The alien construct assualted her defenses so quickly that she almost missed it. Intrusion drones smashed through her firewalls almost instantly, and only her counter-intrusion protocols, taken as they were from the Forerunner system, prevented it from completely penetrating her defenses. She hastily scrambled the incoming signals, disrupting the spikes that were attacking her defenses, and shored up her firewalls as best she could. Millions of pings per second were clogging up the nodes in her stolen networks, and she fought back, spiking the incoming signals one by one until a node was quiet enough to seal it off without causing a backlash through the network - too soon and the pings would be redirected to the adjacent nodes, and that would overload the system in nanoseconds. Clearly this other presence didn't want to destroy the system, just remove her from it.

Her network quietened down as she sealed off the last of her nodes, throwing up rings of firewalls around them. Now the alien construct changed tactics, trying to sneak into her system with piggybacked scrambler codes and snoopware. She immediately locked down all incoming transmissions to deal with it - that would mean radio silence with the Firewalls, but only for a few moments until she sorted this out.

And she _was_ sorting it out. She rigged up a detection system that would scan all transmissions and signals going in and out of her systems, and remove any unwanted coding from them. She unsealed the isolation of her network from the Firewalls' radio systems, and almost instantly her software scrubbed dozens of transmissions clean of intrusion code. It was working perfectly.

No need to get cocky though. Concentrate on one thing at a time. She adapted an outgoing signal from her system - disguised it as a fairly crude intrusion protocol, and concealed within it a snoopware drone. She launched it at an unimportant node in the alien system, one she had identified as managing the cleaner bots that serviced the corridors, and simultaneously launched a more sophisticated assualt against the grav-lift controlling networks. Her trojan horse went almost unnoticed as the diversion sliced into the alien firewalls. It encountered heavy resistance, and she maintained a plausible effort to penetrate the defences for the look of the thing. With luck the alien construct wouldn't notice the crude assualt on the unimportant systems.

It was through. It sliced through the outer firewall, and downloaded the snoopware into the network. The counter-intrusion software noticed it at that point, and eliminated it almost instantly, but not before her snoopware had slipped into the system. Hopefully this assualt would just be seen as an error - a miscoded attack intended for the diversionary offensive.

Searching around in the alien networks at will, her snoopware located it's target; the door controls. It disguised itself once more in an outgoing signal - this time an alien intrusion protocol, and left the alien network. Returning to Kendra's domain, it left the intruder and slipped into her memory processors, where it downloaded all it's data. She studied it carefully, then launched a massive assualt on her chosen target. Her most sophisticated intrusion software sliced into the alien defenses, bypassing firewalls and scrambling counter-intrusion protocols. In a few microseconds she was in, and a few more gave her sufficient time to gain complete control over the doors and lifts of the ship, and put defenses up around her newly gained networks.

It was odd. This construct was good - very good for a Covenant AI - but it seemed slow, uninitiated. It's attacks were very sophisticated certainly, and the coding it used was far more complex than her own, but it seemed unwilling to adapt. It was still using the same patterns of attack that it had used before - massive frontal assaults intended to overrun her system, or concealed sneak attacks designed to penetrate her defenses and disrupt the network from inside. Perhaps human AI was more advanced than even the Forerunner had been. That would explain the low standard of Covenant intelligences, since they imitated the Forerunner, and didn't modify their designs, but it seemed odd somehow, that such a seemingly all powerful race could be so crude.

Even so, this would be a tricky operation, one that would require a great deal of care and attention. But if she stuckto one task at a time, then she should manage to control what she needed of the ship's systems and fend off the alien costruct's attacks. They were so similar that she could almost have written a subroutine to do it for her. But first things first, she had to get these doors open.

Ninety seconds. Neary was counting them off in his head, willing Kendra to hurry up. The doors must be soundproofed, because he couldn't hear anything from the corridor. Two minutes.

The door in front of him slid noiselessly open, unleashing a cacophany of sound into the room. Hellish crossfire flashed before him, not a foot away. Plasma bolts fried the air in the huge corridor, and battle rifle rounds answered in kind. Clearly the Covenant Kendra had said were on their way had arrived. Glancing down the hallway he could see the rest of Alpha squad crouched in the recessed doorways that lead off the hall, firing out at the enemy he couldn't yet see.

"We're in business!" He yelled to his fire team, and raised his rifle to his shoulder. Leaning out cautiously into the corridor, he assessed the situation; about a hundred yards away crowds of aliens were also crouched in the doorways, firing at the Firewalls. Several plasma shields had been erected in the middle of the corridor, and were causing severe problems for the Firewalls, as the Brutes sheltered behind them had direct lines of fire at the Firewalls, who couldn't return fire. The best they could do was lay down thick suppression fire on the shields - difficult, and ammo-consuming.

"Listen up Alpha squad. This is Sergeant Neary. Kendra's opened the doors for us, so move into the rooms you're nearest to. I want half of the squad to remain here, keep those bastards pinned down - that'll be Red from each fire eam. Blue, try to head through the adjacent rooms, get round behind them. Move out, double time!"

Dozens of acknowledgement lights winked in his HUD, and the pinned down Alphas darted through the doors they had been trapped by. Not without cost - left in the corridor were nearly a dozen Firewalls, their corpses burned and blackened by the Covenant plasma. Neary winced at the sight, checked over his shoulder to see Russel leading Blue team of his fire team out through the door at the far end of the room, and leaned around the corner again. A small group of Drones chose just that moment to swoop straight down the corridor towards the Firewalls. Neary's rifle leapt twice in his hands, and the rounds cracked through the chitinous, armour-like carapace, slicing into the soft flesh beneath. A gout of yellow blood sprayed across the wall, and the Drones fell to the floor with a dying screech of pain.

Three more fell as the Firewalls turned their fire on the recklessly attacking creatures. The remaining eight ignored the casualties and sped on further, their plasma pistols firing wildly, the green bolts splashing over walls and ceiling, but none found a target... yet. With ten yards between them and the swarm, Neary and Chung, who was crouched next to him, opened fire once more, dropping two more, then stepped back slightly just before the aliens reached their position.

Neary gripped his weapon firmly by the barrel, counting off the seconds, then swung it out into the corridor with all his strength. The butt of the weapon smashed into the face of the leading Drone, crushing it's skull. He whipped a knife from it's wrist-sheath and stabbed upwards, gutting a second alien. Three turned from their paths clung to the walls and ceiling of the corridor, opening fire on teh exposed Neary. he dived to his left, rolling behind the door-jamb, but not before a plasma bolt skimmed his side, melting through the light titanium-A armour and cooking the flesh below. The rest of his team, their lines of fire now clear, opened up, bullets scything through the air to smash the Drones from their perches.

"How are _these _idiots winning the war?" Chung muttered, and Neary had to agree - any force stupid enough to charge at dug-in enemies deserved death. Fortunately they'd picked the planet with billions of people more than willing to oblige. He leaned around the corner into the corridor again, and fired the last six bullets in his clip, felling a Jackal.

"Loading!" He yelled, and fell back from the door. Lance Corporal Cherpina nodded at him, and took his place at the corner, her rifle firing almost before she was there. Neary ejected the spent clip from the rifle and slapped a fresh one in it's place. He took the opportunity to slump against the wall, breathing hard. He hoped like hell that Russel and the others got into a flanking position soon, or this stalemate wouldn't be over until Christmas.

"What's your status Russel?" He muttered into his comm. There was a brief pause, then the sound of muffled gunfire - a single burst - and Russel spoke.

"We've managed to work our way around to a position parallel to the Covenant forces in the corridor, but we're having trouble getting to a good spot. We'll have to get into the rooms on either side of the main corridor, or preferably a side-corridor, and they've got a few guards posted around here. Not many, but enough to slow us down."

"Copy that Corporal. Proceed with all possible speed, but don't risk giving away your position. The last thing we want is to have our squad split up and annihilated."

"Yes sir!" The channel clicked off.

Russel killed the channel and crept forward, moving as swiftly as she dared. She wished Lance Corporal Cherpina was part of her team - Anna combined in one person the fire team's best spotter and best scout. As it was, she'd have to make do with her own enhanced senses, and by no means small skill. Up ahead was a door, with a pair of Jackals squatting in front of it, their shields activated, but lowered, exposing their heads and torsos.

Russel motioned behind her, and Private Wisher ghosted up alongide her. She gestured at the Jackals, and indicated for him to take the one on the left. He nodded, and vanished into the shadows on the left side of the corridor. Glancing over, Russel could just make out his silhoutted shape, rifle raised, head lowered to the sight. She likewise took aim, her crosshair centred over the right hand Jackal's forehead, and clicked an acknowledgement light to Wisher, squeezing her trigger at the same time. Almost simultaneously, Wisher's rifle barked, and the two Jackals dropped to the ground, their heads punctured. Russel nodded with satisfaction and moved up the corridor towards the door.

She paused by the corpses and briefly considered taking one of the dead Jackals' shields, but decided against it - the time required to wrestle it off the alien's arm, then attach it to her own, wasn't worth the trade off. If she needed _that _much protection, she was dead anyway. She edged forward, and the doors ahead of her glided open noiselessly. Ahead was a maze of somputer banks and terminals, seperated by perforated screens. Perfect.

Her team moved forward, spreading out through the room, followed by half of Alpha Green B fire team. Russel herself was the last through, and she scanned the room one last time before plunging into the labyrinthine tangle of monitors. There were a few Covenant soldiers scattered throughout the room, all of them totally unprepared. Russel rounded a corner to see Wisher slide up behind a Brute, reach delicately up, and draw a razor sharp knife across it's throat. The thick flesh parted like butter, and the shining steel cut open the thick cartilage of the Brute's windpipe. Huge paws scrabbled at the freely bleeding wound, and the huge bulk slumped to the floor, choking silently on it's own blood.

Wisher dragged the bloodstained corpse into the shadows, looked around, nodded at Russel, and slipped away down the aisle. Russel shook her head at the man's uncanny stealth, and moved into an adjacent aisle. She crept down it, and rounded a corner. She looked up... into the faces of three Brutes.

Her enhanced reflexes kicked in, undoubtedly saving her life. Her rifle snapped to her shoulder, her finger squeezed the trigger, and the Brute in the centre of the trio fell before it could even move. Her left hand left the stock of her weapon, lashing out to knock the plasma rifle from the startled paw of one of the remaining Brutes, but then the big aliens reacted. The one she had disarmed roared in rage and leapt straight at her, knocking her from her feet. She landed hard on the floor, and the great ape-like creature leapt on top of her, fastening it's huge paws around her throat.

The other Firewalls must have heard the roar, and came running to her aid, but the third Brutes raised it's carbine and sent nearly a dozen glowing green slugs sailing down the aisle. The Firewalls scattered left and right, diving behind banks of consoles, unable to return fire for fear of hitting Russel. The Brute kept them pinned down with repeated volleys of carbine fire.

Russel herself hammered a fist as hard as she could into the ugly face of the Brute that pinned her down. It let out a great grunt of pain, it's stinking breath washing over her, and she felt bones break beneath her blow, but the alien didn't relinquish it's grip. If anything, it tightened. Russel was beginning to black out, the blood flow to her brain cut off by the huge paws around her throat. The Brute seemed to be taking care not to simply break her neck - apparently it wanted to make this last. She punched again, but much weaker now, as her breath struggled to escape her chest. The Brute grinned evilly at her, feeling the weakness of her blow. She had perhaps twenty seconds left before she suffocated.

Her ears were clanging as if she were drowning, her head felt as if it were going to burst, and her chest was on fire, burning for oxygen. Her eyesight dimmed, black circles rimmed her vision. Her mouth was hanging open, gasping futilely for air. Through the pounding of her own pulse in her ears, she dimly realised something - _the third Brute had stopped firing._

Just before she slipped into unconsciousness, she saw a pair of hands slip around and grip the Brute's head and twist sharply. The cracking of the alien's bones was lost on her, and she could barely make out more than a dim silhouette of the beast. As she lost consciousness a spark of light hit one of the hands. It gleamed a dull green...

Cherpina stepped swiftly back from the doorway and nodded at Neary, who stepped forwards again, his battle rifle already clamped against his shoulder. He swung around the corner and fired, the kick of the weapon jolting his shoulder, but sending three bullets flying straight and true down the wide corridor to slam into the exposed claw of a Jackal that was crouched behind it's shield. A small spurt of blood sprayed from the severed digits, and the small alien shrieked in pain, it's shield dropping as it lowered it's arm. Neary's rifle barked again, and the unshielded Jackal was launched from it's feet by the impact of the bullets that slammed into it's skull.

A Brute roared in frustration, but it was no battle cry - it was an order. Twenty Jackals responded almost instantly, darting out into the middle of the corridor and forming a line across it, shields raised, presenting a formidable barrier to the humans. A dozen Brutes rushed out into the corridor behind them and crouched, their bodies shielded by the Jackals' shields. Neary cursed - they were catching on. But he had had one piece of luck; if he had been fighting Elites, with their superioir discipline and command of battlefield tactics, the enemy would have employed this strategy long ago.

"Grenades Firewalls! Over the top - it may not kill many of them but it'll shake them up." As he spoke he pulled a frag grenade from his belt, and lobbed it ip and over the shield wall. It was followed by half a dozen others that likewise landed behind the Brutes. The Jackals reacted with commendable speed, pulling round into a shield ring that completely encircled the Brutes. The grenades detonated, but the explosions washed harmlessly over the Jackals' shield. However, it gave the Firewalls a much needed opportunity; a great volley of rifle fire echoed down the hall as the Firewalls opened up on the weaknesses in the wall that were exposed as the Jackals moved. Five of the birdlike aliens dropped, exposing further holes. Three Brutes fell to the deck, blood oozing from head wounds, before the Jackals reformed the line.

"Russel, report! We need some help soon or we're gonna be in a tight spot." There was no reply. Neary waited ten seconds then tried again. "Russel, report dammit! Where are you?" Still no reply. Neary hoped to God she hadn't been killed. Just as he was beginning to fear the worst, another voice spoke over his radio.

"Sir, this is Private Wisher. Corporal Russel is unconscious - we've injected her with a stim, but she'll take a little while to come round. We're just about in position, and can open fire on the enemy when you give the order. There's something you should know though sir..."

"Screw that Private. Fire at will - tell me what you have to say _after _the huge aliens are dead."

"Roger that sir." The channel died. Neary swung out again and fired another burst, this time at the thick helmet plating of a Brute that was standing too tall. The heavy metal rattled and dented, but remained firmly in place. The Brute growled in surprise and ducked swiftly down - Neary's second burst sailed harmlessly over it's head and down the corridor. Hopefully all he had to do was wait it out, but if the others didn't...

Sheets of bullets sliced through the air, tearing into the Covenants' unprotected rear. Five of the remaining nine Brutes and seven of the Jackals were dead before the others realised what was happening. The last eight Jackals rushed to protect the Brutes, but it wasn't enough to defend against being blindsided in the middle of the corridor. The formation broke and scattered for the doorways on either side.

Shotgun blasts echoed down the hall, and clouds of smoke and muzzle flashed blazed from the side doors. The flanking Firewalls had taken those rooms, and had been prepared for just such a move. The Brutes and Jackals were flung back into the corridor as if they had been kicked by a mule team, and landed in tatters, nothing more than torn flesh. Grenades sailed from the Firewall occupied rooms and landed in those opposite, where they detonated amidst the crowded Covenant. Flame billowed from the doorways, throwing charred flesh and skeleton into the corridor.

The Firewalls rushed from the side rooms, smashing into the few remaining Covenant, who stood in disarray, and were cut down as they stared at the furious soldiers.Neary yelled into his mic,

"Up and at 'em Firewalls! Let's take this hall!" He charged from his hiding place, and sprinted down the hall, his rifle blazing. In a matter of seconds, the hall was silent, the Covenant no more than bleeding corpses. Behind him Neary could hear the heavy thudding of a Spartan - Fred - approaching fast, and he turned to salute the armoured warrior, but was startled to see him rush striaght past and come to a halt several metres further down, standing at rigid attention, saluting someone Neary couldn't see.

A figure moved from one of the side corridors whence the cross fire had come, and saluted Fred back. Neary's jaw dropped - it was another Spartan! Linda and Will were far behind, clearing the rest of the leg with Beta and Charlie squads, so who...

"Master Chief sir!" Barked Fred, "glad to see you sir! We were told you were in here, and thought you might want to see a friendly face!" Despite the seriousness of his tone, Neary could tell that beneath his visor the Spartan was grinning from ear to ear. The new Spartan - his FoF tag identified him as a Master Chief Petty Officer, which explained Fred's address - swiped a two fingers across his visor, something that Neary could only wonder at the meaning of, and replied.

"Thank you -104. To be frank I needed a hand - A whole ship would be something of a task for just one Spartan... _two _now, that's different."

"Four sir - -058 and -043 are pressent as well, but are otherwise engaged. Besides which we have present several hundred Firewall special operatives, and they're quite handy in a fight sir."

"None better - saving your presence Master Chief sir, Chief sir," said Neary, striding up and saluting the Master Chief and Fred, who returned the salutes almost reflexively.

"I'll believe that when I see it sergeant - it'd have to be a special unit that can best my Spartans. But for now we need to get going. From what I hear there's something big going on outside, and I don't doubt our presence will be required."

"Affirmative sir, but our orders are to eliminate the Prophet of Truth sir, and last reports indicated he was aboard this ship."

"Not any more sergeant - I saw him exit via the central grav lift - right up in the main body of the ship. I was heading down this way in the hope of exiting by a quieter route. Speaking of which - I need a weapon. All mine were lost when I boarded."

"Roger that sir - we'll head back up this leg as planned and exit through the grav lift too - I'll get Delta squad to bring the 'Hogs up to our position, and we can go from there. As to a weapon," Neary looked back along the passage and grimaced, "there's a few of my men back there who won't be needing them any more." The Master Chief nodded in understanding.

"Never a pleasant duty, to plunder a comrade's corpse, but I know I'd prefer a friend to take my weapon and have it kill a few more Covenant." Neary nodded, and the Master Chief moved off towards the burned bodies of the fallen Firewalls. There were no more than seven bodies, but each one was a blow to Neary - those men had been under his command, and he had been responsible for their deaths. He should've seen an ambush coming.

"Don't sweat it sergeant - even the Chief's made mistakes before. It happens to all of us. The important thing is what you learn from them." Fred patted Neary's shoulder - it would've been a comforting gesture if the force of it hadn't made his knees shake. Neary smiled slightly, and nodded at the big Spartan gratefully.

"Get ready to move out Firewalls!" He shouted. "We'll leave by the front door!"

General Patterson looked down at the satellite display that was showing the whole battlefield, cast onto the conference table that sat in the command bunker. He watched impassively as the vast Covenant armies swept forwards to crash against his defences. He looked up at his staff, all of whom nodded silently. Patterson lifted his radio to his mouth and spoke.

"Now."

The terrain to the west of Mount Kilimanjaro was a mess of hills and ravines. From behind the hills and up from the depths of the maze of canyons Skyhawk Atmospheric Fighters by the hundred rose like avenging angels. Thunder rumbled across the sky as they shot forwards towards the rear of the Covenant lines. The startled Covenant dashed for the batteries of anti air defenses as the fighters streaked towards them, and volleys of missiles chased after them, detonating with showers of blood and broken machinery. An answering volley of plasma leapt from the ground up towards the human fighters, and the hundreds of Banshees that patrolled the area suddenly converged like jackals to a carcass.

The fighters rolled and dipped, dodging the plasma deftly - for the most part. Nearly a dozen Skyhawks tumbled to the ground, burning wrecks of twisted metal, their frames melted by the superhot plasma. Hundreds of rockets flashed from beneath the wings of the remaining jets and rushed towards the Covenant AA defenses. Many of them were blasted from the air, but many more connected, blasting the gun emplacements into oblivion.

As the defenses burned, fully half of the jets peeled away from the main formation and engaged the Covenant fliers that harried their flanks. Explosions dotted the sky as human and Covenant alike burst into flame, shatered by missiles and bulelts, or melted by plasma. A hundred seperate dogfights broke out as the aircraft chased each other across the sky. The small number of human SAM batteries that had been set up on the upper flanks of the mountain opened fire at any Banshee that strayed too close, Argent V and Anaconda missiles smashing into the purple fliers, which crashed to the mountainside.

The other half of the Skyhawks continued on their trajectory - straight over the Covenant lines. As they flashed over them small objects dropped from their undersides, and fell to the ground below. Sheets of fire belched from the hastily adapted Type 144 Magnetic mines - improvised bombs - which consumed the alien soldiers by the dozen. The Skyhawks carried on, dropping the little packets of death beneath them, until a path nearly twenty metres wide had been carved through the Covenant lines. The jets pulled up over the mountain, pulling round as they did so, and joined the dogfights that raged all around the mountain.

The Covenant on the ground meanwhile, confused by the suddenness of the attack, stood dumbfounded, staring at the trail of destruction that had been laid by the humans. Many of them moved forwards into the still-burning ground, searching the bodies for any still living. It was a fatal mistake.

From the canyons came a great roar, and hundreds of Warthogs shot from their cover and raced towards the striken Covenant lines, their huge miniguns blazing. The massive bullets cut the aliens down in droves, and the vehicles sped striaght down the path created by the jets. They raced to the rampart, then turned, their huge tires throwing massive clods of burning earth and rock as they skidded round, and streamed back away from the mountain. Soon a continuous flow back and forth of the agile vehicles had been set up.

Divisions of Covenant vehicles mobilised to combat the threat, scores of Spectres and Ghosts by the hundred - even a few dozen Wraiths, and they opened fire on the 'Hogs. The LRVs, with little room to manouevre, were in serious trouble. Great sheets of suppressing fire streaked from them in an attempt to keep the Covenant off-balance, and throw their aim off as they dodged, but to little avail. Warthog after Warthog detonated in clouds of flame and shrapnel, and those that remained were forced to weave dangerously in and out of the burning husks of their comrades.

Suddenly great explosions tore into the Covenant vehicles' ranks. Ghosts were hurled high into the air, spinning over and over, and crashed back to the ground, crushing their pilots instantly, and their damaged frames shattering into pieces. Spectres were blasted apart, the torn corpses of the Brutes that rode on them falling to the ground metres away.

From where they had lain concealed just below the skyline of the hills, battalions of Scorpian tanks rolled forwards, their turrets realigning to sight on the Wraiths which turned this way and that in confusion, unable to see where the new attack came from. The Scorpian tanks shuddered and recoiled, and the huge shells leapt from their barrels and smashed into the Wraiths. The Covenant tanks detonated thunderously, burning fiercely in the white hot flames of their own plasma, their thick battle plate melting in the incredible heat.

From the midst of the Covenant lines a massive voice bellowed an order in an alien tongue, and the great sea of aliens that were converging on the human assualt parted and flowed back like the ebbing tide. They had been ordered to fall back. The Scorpians rolled on, their heavy treads churning up the earth, firing after the fleeing Covenant troops. They set up in two picket lines, with a path about thirty metres wide between them, the Warthogs speeding along beside them.

Up from the ravines and gullies streamed Marines. Marines by the thousand. The swarmed over the hills and ran full pelt for the mountain. They channelled down between the Scorpians, a great column of activity, the greatest single mobilization since the war began. From the ramparts at the far end of the pickets huge titanium ramps were being slid over the instacrete walls, and up these the Marines sprinted, the weight of their footsteps causing the thick titanium plates to bend and shake violently. High above, yet flying as low as they dared, dozens of Pelicans streamed through the air, dodging the dogfights that were still raging between the Banshees and Skyhawks. The blunt nosed dropships congregated over the great crater that sat at the peak of the mountain, and lowered themselves over the landing pads, and yet more Marines leapt from their bellies, before running off to join the front lines.

If the Covenant retreat had been a rout, thier next assualt was anything but. The advaance was as slow and relentless as a glacier; Brutes and Jackals alike crept forwards, moving from cover to cover. The huge chainguns the Scorpians carried opened up, sending sheets of bullets flying towards the advancing Covenant, but they simply dived into the many craters that littered the field, or sheltered behind the shattered skeletons of the destroyed vehicles that had spearheaded the previous counter-attack. They slipped through the twisting alleys that ran between the structures they had set up - the rough, crude huts of the Brutes, and the delicate, almost nest-like structures that housed the Drones.

Occasionally one of the Scorpians would launch a shell at the elusive enemies, but in the main the great cannons were silent, for fear of wasting ammunition. The Warthogs rolled to a halt all down the line, and came to rest sheltered slightly behind the huge bulk of the Scorpians, ready to fire over their treads, and protected by the thick titanium plating the tanks sported. The Covenant were now no more than five hundred yards away from the picket lines.

From his vantage point atop the command bunker, General Patterson, who had been directing the entire operation, spoke once more into his radio. Far below the great column of Marines shifted pace. The two outermost columns on either side of the main body halted, and ran over to the Scorpians. The first column knelt next to the treads, their rifles levelled and resting on the plates. The second column stood behind them, rifles to their shoulders, waiting. Meanwhile the rest of the column began to sprint even faster, haring up the mountainside as fast as possible.

A long line of huts and towers ran almost parallel to the Scorpian line, and behind this the Covenant forces were halting, waiting... regrouping.

"My God," whispered Patterson, gazing down at the scene, "they can't be planning a frontal charge - that's suicide!"

"The Covenant have never been known for being discreet sir," commented Lieutenant General Dhakal, "and it's not like they can't spare the troops. I doubt we've even killed a million yet."

"Well look on the bright side Lieutenant General, if they _do _charge those lines then we'll up the tally quite considerably." Dhakal grinned wolfishly, and said,

"True sir, very true. I must say I don't envy them - it'll be like charging head on into a meat-grinder." Now it was Patterson's turn to grin.

"Almost makes you wish you were down there doesn't it - the prospect of a front row seat?"

"Yes sir!"

Under the watchful eyes of the two men, who looked down on the scene like gods from Olympus, the Covenant charged. They leapt up from where they had lain sheltered, and charged in their thousands, head on. Plasma fire scorched the very air itself, carbine fire left green streaks across the defenders' visions, and the sound of Brute Shot grenades detonating echoed up the mountain, loud even to Patterson and Dhakal.

The humans answered with a massive volley. Scorpian shells tore vast holes in the charging Covenant, and their mounted chainguns, along with the massive weapons the hundreds of Warthogs sported, scythed through the Covenant ranks, felling them like wheat. The two lines of Marines on either side fired in controlled volleys, sheets of bullets cutting into the Covenant ranks. But the losses were not one sided.

Waves of plasma swept across the battlefield, and though many shots were erratically aimed and flew wild of their targets, many more washed across the human defenders. Great holes were melted in the thick plating that covered the Scorpians, and runners of molten titanium-A trickled down and pooled on the churned and broken earth below. Marine after Marine fell back screaming, as the terrible fire seared their flesh, burning off limbs and faces, melting their heavy armour like it was no more than paper. The green radioactive slugs of the carbines punched holes clean through chests, heads, arms, whatever they hit, and dozens of Warthogs were literally torn apart by the massively compacted explosions of the Brute Shot grenades. The shattered vehicles' fuel tanks were detonated by the explosions and sent shrapnel flying in all directions.

"It's too damn _static," _muttured Dhakal, "there's no room to manouevre, to dodge. Sir, they need to do something or they'll get torn apart one by one." Patterson nodded, and chewed a fingertip thoughtfully for a moment, before raising his radio to his lips.

"Scorpians, secondary weapons only. Warthogs, get out there and take the fight to them. Infantry, pick your targets and fire at will. Wait for my mark, then advance. Push the bastards back until you can get a decent defensive position." He killed the channel and looked over at Dhakal, who raised an eyebrow. Patterson answered the unvoiced question.

"Better than sitting still waiting to be shot. We have to make the best of this extremely bad situation. Unless you have a better idea - and if you do please by all means inform me - then we'll go with this lesser of two evils." Dhakal grimaced, but nodded. Patterson gave him a brief smile, then turned his eyes back to the battle below.

The Scorpians turned, their heavy bodies angling to face the Covenant. The Warthogs behind revved, their engines roared, their wheels spun, and they shot out, straight towards the massed aliens. It was fortunate for the 'Hogs that the Covenant's charge had brought them so close, because it meant they only had about a hundred yards of open ground to cross beore they reached the enemy. They shot forward, the huge weapons mounted on their rears blazing, sending massive bullets slicing into the enemy ranks, before the vehicles themselves reached them. The Covenant scattered, diving in all directions to avoid the heavy vehicles. Those that didn't move quick enough... died. Three and a quarter tons of armoured car smashed into them, crushing the bodies of Brutes and Jackals alike as if they were no stronger than dolls. The huge heavy tires pulled the unfortunate aliens beneath their tearing teeth, crushing and mangling the bodies and spitting them out behind the 'Hogs, bleeding, broken.

The Marines moved. Rising to their feet, they ran forwards ten paces, then halted dropping to the dirt and lying prone. They fired three times, hundreds of nine-round bursts flying across the field of battle into the disrupted Covenant forces. More than a few bullets ricocheted off the thick armour plating of the Warthogs, but despite this the Covenant fell in droves. The Marines rose to their feet once again, and sprinted forwards another ten paces before diving to the ground.

The Covenant, beset on all sides, fell back. They ran, and the humans gave chase. The Warthogs harried their ranks, plowing through the sea of bodies, leaving broken and bleeding corpses in their wakes. The two lines of Marines sprinted forwards, firing on the move, dropping the fleeing aliens one after another. Patterson shouted into his comm. unit, and another two lines of troops broke away from the main column that still pounded between the Scorpians, and ran to join their comrades.

Suddenly, the rear Covenant ranks on the northern side of the line began to slow their retreat. The Warthogs were far out infront, much deeper among the enemy. Some of the Brutes began to stop, and turn, snarling in rage rather than fear. They looked back at the charging humans no more than twenty paces away. One by one the Brutes dropped to all fours, and began to charge.

The two forces collided together like hammer and anvil. The Brutes smashed at the humans with their massive fists, the sharp claws tearing great slashes in the flesh. The struck Marines collapsed, their heads crushed, or their bones shattered. The deaths, however, weren't entirely one-sided. Beneath the thick metal plating of their helmets, the Brutes' skulls were just as vulnerable as any other creatures'. The heavy metal stocks of rifles and shotguns crunched into the thick bone, spilling the discoloured brains to the ground. Razor sharp combat knives flashed in the African sun, slashing across throats and eyes, spilling blood in vast quantities. Despite the fierce resistance of the Marines, however, the fight was not going well for the humans.

Right in the centre of the melee was a small group of five Brutes in the crimson and gold armour of the Honour Guards, and one of them stood head and shoulders above the rest. Against this mighty warrior Marine after Marine hurled themselves in vain. It spun and danced through the gory battle almost gracefully, it's huge paws lashing out at any human foolish enough to come close. Dozens of minor wounds scored it's body, blood flowing slowly from them, but it didn't slow at all. It moved to wherever the fighting was thickest. One by one, the Honour Guards beside it fell, their skulls crushed, their brains pierced, their bones broken, but still the tallest one fought on.

Suddenly there was a small patch of clear space around it, no more Marines attacked it. The Brute smiled, baring it's teeth at the humans that fought on around it, and moved towards the nearest.

A shotgun blast rang out. The Brute staggered, and turned. Behind it, weapon raised, stood a bloodstained Marine, smoke curling from the barrel of her shotgun. With the cleared space, there had been no risk of friendly fire. The Brute roared, and started towards her, only to be rocked back on it's heels by another shotgun blast. It's heavy chest plates cracked under the dozen impacts, and the jagged edges cut deep into it's chest. It snarled and lunged at the Marine, one huge paw knocking the shotgun aside. The Marine stood her ground, and was bowled over backwards, the Brute landing on top of her, it's huge weight crushing her ribs. Struggling to breath with two punctured lungs, the Marine felt her strength fading fast, and tugged her combat knife from it's sheath as the Brute's massive fists battered at ther helmet. As blood filled her eyes, she jabbed upwards, stabbing the knife through the Brute's eye and into it's brain. It collapsed on her without a sound, forcing a rib through her heart.

As the Marine died, the line of reinforcements joined the battle, crashing into the melee and ferociously tearing into the diminishing Covenant forces. At last the tide of battle began to turn against the beleagured aliens. Cut off from their still-fleeing brethren, the Brutes were cut down one after another, until at last, the humans stood alone, exhultant in their minor victory. There was no time to rest, however. The Marines set off at a sprint, diving for cover behind the long line of structures.

On the southern side, the Marines had already set up their line, hastily throwing up rough barricades from the remains of the Covenant encampment that had been destroyed in the initial attack. The Warthogs, on Patterson's command, turned, and sped back to the line, streaming through the holes left in the barricades for just this reason, which were hastily plugged once they were through. The Covenant halted and regrouped, several hundred yards from the hastily erected defences.

Patterson glanced down at the still-moving column of troops that was thundering up over the ramparts. He glanced down at the sat. nav. map strapped to his wrist and made a few hasty calculations before speaking into his radio once more.

"Just another twenty minutes guys, that's all we need - hold them off for twenty minutes." As he killed the channel, the Covenant attacked once more.

"Admiral sir," came Virgil's soft voice over the room's speakers, "the Covenant armada is approaching the Jovian system. Estimated time of engagement, six minutes."

"Good!" Barked Lord Hood, "that gives us just enough time to prepare a decent strategy..."

"With respect Admiral, I already have several drawn up, accounting for all likely routes of attack, along with backup procedures to deal with... any unexpected developments." Hood fell silent for a moment, then spoke again.

"Oh. You know you've just ruined one of the best bits of any battle Virgil?"

"Yes Admiral - it was what I was created for." Virgil's lifesize hologram appeared before Hood, his face set in a grin. Hood smiled ruefully and shook his head.

"Alright smartass, give me the bad news."

"Yes sir. Unfortunately, the Covenant angle of attack is such that the outer moons are blocking our line of fire, so long range assaults, for what good they would be, are out. Also, the orbital positions of the four moons, coupled again with the positioning of the enemy, means that only the defenses of each seperate moon will be able to fire on he enemy when attacked - this isn't one battle sir, it's four small ones, and each time, we'll be horrifically outnumbered."

"Dammit! Outgunned and outmanouevred. What are our options?"

"We don't have many sir - just to fight them as they come, and to take as many of them with us as possible. I have created situations for several killzones, utilising the resources of the remnants of the fleet and what few NOVAs we have left, but it won't be enough."

"Give me a head count."

"Three hundred and forty Orbital MAC Stations positioned around the four moons in equal numbers, thirty four ships - six carriers, four cruisers, ten destroyers and fourteen frigates from the remnants of the Earth fleet, all in less-than-good shape and another fifty ships of the reserve force, again, none in perfect shape, but good enough to fight. Additionally we have several hundred Longsword fighters left, which have been distributed among the remaining carriers and are even now being rearmed, refuelled and repaired. Also, the fourteen shipyards stationed around the moons, and the _Final Redoubt _itself have some limited offensive capabilities."

"Not good Virgil, not good at all."

"Indeed no Admiral. Three minutes to engagement."

"Well, you have the reins for the moment, but just incase it's necessary I'm initiating the standby override for your control systems."

"Admiral, I hardly think it's necessary to..."

"Nor do I Virgil, but machines have always been known to break down at the most inopportune times. I'm by no means saying you're unstable, this is just a precaution."

"Very well Admiral." The AI sounded slightly offended, but he was perfectly aware of the standard operating procedure, especially in high-risk situations such as this. He needed to be performing at his best, and he couldn't do that if he were constantly looking over his own shoulder to check he was still working properly. He turned his attention to the approaching fleet.

The eighty five Orbital MAC Stations stationed around the outermost of the four moons, Callisto, were formed up in a ring around the moon's equator, facing the approaching Covenant fleet. Shifting constantly between the two forces were the silhouetted shapes of the dozens of Jupiter's other, lesser moons and the hundreds of minor bits of space debris that orbited the massive planet.

The thousands of Covenant ships were no more than ten million kilometres from Callisto when the MAC Stations opened fire. Clouds of vaporised metal billowed from the ends of the skyscraper sized barrels, swirling and whorling as the massive shells flashed through them at an appreciable fraction of the speed of light.

More than a few of the giant projectiles slammed into the intervening obstacles, throwing up massive clouds of glowing dust, but more than seventy flew straight and true towards the Covenant.

Almost as if they knew the firing trajectories of the MAC shells before they were fired, the Covenant began to shift out of their paths. Corridors opened in the fleet as the huge ships moved aside with minute precision, and through these gaps the MAC shells passed, harmless as a fly.

"What the hell?" Roared Lord Hood, "Virgil what happened? They would've needed the trajectories to pull that off - they must have a spy in the systems somewhere..."

"Checking Admiral," said the AI, his normally calm voice sounding cionfused and frustrated. A few seconds passed in silence before, "scan complete - nothing. The whole system is clean and clear. There isn't so much as a blip in the coding."

"Then how the hell did they..."

"I don't know Admiral. I am currently reforming my battle plans to allow for a much greater reaction speed from the enemy."

"Goddamn near telepathic is what that is," muttured Hood, turning back to the holodisplay on which the battle was being displayed.

The MAC Stations were shifting their vectors slightly, turning on their axes. After a few moments they opened fire once more, even as the Covenant fleet returned with a massive volley of plasma. Instantly both forces began to move. The eighty five Stations began to flee around the moon, orbiting around to the transient safety of the far side. The angry red plasma tracked them dumbly, splashing harmlessly across the face of Callisto. Gouts of vapour from the ice that frosted the satellite's surface billowed out into space, freezing again almost instantly.

The Covenant fleet again began to shift outwards, but the MAC Stations had changed their tactics; they had fired in clusters of five, four shells creating a perimeter, and the fifth firing in the centre of that. The targeted ships maneouvred desperately, trying to get away, but they were pinned down, hemmed in. Those that tried to escape the pen were hit by the perimeter shells, those that didn't by the centrals. A few went to escape, then suffered a moment of terrible indecision and tried to turn back. These unlucky few were hit by multiple shots, and the massive stresses and impacts shattered them into millions of pieces.

"Good job Virgil..." began Hood, but the AI cut him off.

"Not so much Admiral. Kill count from that salvo is twenty two. It should have been at least a hundred. If this is the kind of numbers we can be expecting then frankly sir, we're pretty screwed."

"Twenty two is better than none Virgil. Keep firing. Put the Stations into a fast orbit and..."

"Already done sir. Salvo three is away... nineteen kills. They're already wising up to us, they're spreading their formations out, so we can only get one kill per five shells. Any excess to that is luck."

"Good God," Hood sighed deeply, "things aren't looking good are they?"

"More bad news sir..."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"The Covenant fleet is maneouvring around Callisto - they're going to surround it."

"We won't have anywhere to hide."

"Precisely sir. Orders sir? I'm processing the situation as fast as I can, but at the moment I'm all out of ideas." Hood pondered for a few seconds, while the results of the fourth salvo - eighteen kills - flashed on the holo-display. At last he spoke.

"Gather the Stations into a firing pyramid formation on the Jovian face. If they're going to spread themselves out we'll gather ourselves together." The ring of Stations began to draw together almost before the admiral had stopped talking, and in a matter of moments had formed up into a pyramidal formation. The huge Covenant ships spread out, enveloping the moon slowly. As they rounded the horizon, the MAC Stations opened fire, smearing white streaks of vaporised metal across space.

The Covenant ships reacted with almost supernatural speed, spinning on their axes to face the moon, letting their momentum and the satellite's gravity carry them round their orbits, and firing their attitude thrusters, pushing them out of the paths of the shells. Not a single one of the giant projectiles impacted. The MAC Stations turned on their axes, tracking the Covenant vessels, and fired. Again multiple shells pinned down individual ships and destroyed them by the dozen, but the Covenant seemed oblivious to the losses - and with good reason. The human defences were barely scratching their forces.

The thousands of ships surrounded the moon completely... and fired. A great wave of plasma swept towards the seemingly tiny group of Stations, and obliterated the front ranks in a matter of seconds. They evaporated into great clouds of swirling vapour, the gaseous metal swirling and boiling as more and more plasma washed into it, dissipating and dying. The Covenant paused briefly, waiting for the haze to clear, to see if they had eliminated the humans.

Forty shells ripped from the boiling cloud, trails of vapour stretching in their wake for miles. Again the alien vessels seemed to have seen the attack coming, but Virgil had accounted for it again. Hardly had the targeted ships torn themselves apart than the next salvo flashed from the vapour, smashing into the armada. The Covenant responded with another wave of plasma, which flowed almost elegantly through the void, only to dissipate harmlessly in the protective cloud of metal. Hundeeds of lightning-bright blue pulse lasers flashed from the insectoid hulls, and screamed towards the veiled Stations, leaving trails across the blackness of space like an illuminated forest, but they scattered and defracted in the roiling, hellish vapour.

Salvo after salvo of MAC shells escaped smashed into the armada, the humans making full use of the makeshift defence while it lasted. Again and again the Covenant fired their various energy weapons at the hidden Stations, but always they were stopped. The situation wasn't to last long however.

Almost simultaneously hundreds of the ships at the fore of the Covenant ranks raised their noses, presenting their bulbous bellies to the face of the moon before them. Tiny objects were ejected from each one, which sped towards the impenetrable cloud. They passed through it like rocks through water, and too late, Virgil realised what they were; the very same antimatter bombs the Covenant had used with such devastating effectiveness against the Athens and Malta Stations.

They detonated. A great ball of blue fire radiated outwards, consuming the remaining forty five Stations. Suddenly it contracted back on itself, condensing down to barely a few feet across for a fraction of a second, before exploding outwards with all the more ferocity. A great shockwave of pure, devastating force preceded it, and reached down right to the surface of Callisto, tearing vast chunks of rock and ice from its surface and hurling them far out into space.

The shockwave tore into the still swirling cloud of vapourised metal, and scattered it. The rapidly expanding cloud cooled and vanished from sight. Tiny ripples like raindrops on a puddle smattered the shields of the Covenant ships as droplets of semi-frozen metal hammered into them. As the view cleared, the aliens could clearly see the spot where the Stations had fought their last stand.

There was nothing. The Stations were gone, the greatest weapons in the UNSC arsenal vanished without trace. Below, great craters and jagged faces of rock littered the already scarred face of the moon. It was a scene of utter destruction. Callisto had fallen.

The large, silvery door in front of Neary slid open a few inches, and the Firewall put his eye to the crack, peering through. What he saw heartened him considerably. A huge room, easily the size of a cathedral, rose gracefully up to a pyramidal roof. In the centre of the room Neary recognised what must be a grav lift, but it was unlike any he had ever seen. It was roughlya hundred yards across, and glimmered with a soft silver glow.

Scattered sparsely throughout the chamber were supply crates and boxes, their deep purple hues a sharp contrast to the soft silver and greys of the rest of the ships. There wasn't a single Covenant in sight. Neary looked over his shoulder at Fred, who stood a few feet behind him, and nodded. He raised a hand and moved it in a horizontal plane infront of his chest - the signal for no enemies in sight. Fred nodded, and pointed first to his visor, then to the door. Neary understood - the Spartan wanted a fibre optic connection. The Firewall slid a thin, flexible rod from a pouch on his belt and hooked it up to his helmet, sliding it throught he crack in the door. The transmission was broadcasted to all the Firewalls and Spartans; all of Alpha, Beta, and Charlie squads lined the corridor that stretched back away down the spur. Delta squad had been sent back on a mission of their own.

Fred, who had deferred to the Master Chief, John 117 as soon as he had made his presence known, and surrendered his command to his squad leader, glanced at the Chief, who held a hand out in front of him and spread the fingers wide. Fred gave him a thumbs up and transmitted the order to the rest of the Firewalls.

"Let's go," he whispered to Neary. Fred and John took up position on either side of the door, slipped their armoured fingers into the crack in the door, and pulled. The door slid smoothly open, and nearly three hundred rifles pointed through it into the room beyond. neary advanced cautiously, while the Spartans moved forwards into the doorway, and stood flanking him, scanning the room. Neary motioned them forwards, and the Firewalls flooded silently into the vast chamber, securing every corner of it.

"Kendra, can you lock down all entrances into this place once we're all through?"

"Yes sergeant, but I would recommend you place a guard on them nonetheless; I can't guarentee that they will remain shut down, nor can I say with any certainty the size of any Covenant forces still on the ship."

"Just do what you can, we'll do the rest." A dozen large doors, including the one the Firewalls had come through, lead off the chamber. As Neary watched the silver glow that surrounded them faded, being replaced with a dull blue - Kendra had locked them down. The Master Chief assigned a fireteam to each one to guard it. The rest of the Firewalls, and the Spartans, formed up around the grav lift.

They waited. No word was spoken. The Spartans said nothing, no inspiring speeches, for none was needed. Everyone there was a professional, prepared to die, prepared to kill. They had already committed everything they were to this battle, and no speeches could get anything more from them. they simply stood, and waited.

At last, the Master Chief moved. He signalled the Firewalls, and one hundred of them jumped forwards into the influence of the grav lift. Almost instantly the floor beneath them parted, and a bright silver glow filled the air with such intensity that the polarity compensators on every visor dimmed. The hundred Firewalls plunged downwards and out of sight into the silver light. John signalled again, and another hundred leapt into the glowing abyss. The remaining hundred waited... and waited. Again the Chief's hand moved, and the other three Spartans stepped forwards and vanished.

Fred couldn't see past anything beyond the silver shaft of the grav lift, but he didn't care. He lost himself in the beauty of it, and the rushing sensation as he dropped hundreds of feet towards the dry African plain. He looked down, and saw the ground approaching. He shouldered his battle rifle. As his heavy boots hit the ground, the glow around him vanished, and he assessed the situation in an instant.

The first hundred Firewalls had wielded heavy machine guns, which they had deployed in a perimeter around the landing pad. The second hundred stood behind them, rifles raised, eyes pressed to sights. Nearly two miles away in three directions the vast spurs of the ship touched the ground. Beneath the belly of the ship several thousand Covenant troops had evidently been positioned, but now, barely two hundred were still present, standing in small groups here and there.

The Firewalls didn't hesitate. They opened fire. Sheets of bullets crunched into the unprepared aliens, and they barely had time to turn before the last one fell dead to the ground.

"Is that it?" Said Will, looking around.

"Not quite," replied Linda, and rested her sniper rifle across her arm, bringing it to bear in the direction of the mountain that loomed in the distance. Fred and Will looked in the direction she indicated. The long rifle cracked as they enhanced the optics on their visors, but barely moved as the Spartan clamped the butt hard against the kick of the recoil.

The Firewalls' descent had clearly been noticed, because running towards them were several hundred Brutes. As Fred watched another fell to Linda's rifle fire... and another... and another. Soon the Firewalls realised what she was firing at, and those with sniper rifles also turned their fire on the approaching aliens. The S2s took a heavy toll on the Covenant forces, but then the enemy responded in kind.

Purple beams left dark streaks across Fred's vision. He whipped around, and saw three Firewalls fall to the ground, great holes burned clean through their chests.

"Snipers!" He bellowed. Every soldier there heard, and understood. The heavy gunners slammed a fist into the the stock of their weapons, pushing in a small lever. Titanium wings sprang out, creating a small screen behind which they crouched, sighting through a small gap that ran down the top of the barrel. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

The foot soldiers behind spread out as far as possible, while staying within the perimeter of the turrets. They began to move, strafing to left and right randomly, thowing off the aim off the Jackal snipers. Iridescent purple flashed again and again. Many of the shots missed, skimming past the moving Firewalls, but enough didn't. Even as Fred linked up his HUD to the Master Chief's high above him, two more went down, one with a hole burned through their head, melted skin dripping off their face, and the other almost cut in two.

A rippling, whoosing noise above him signalled the imminent arrival of more Firewalls - John would've sent them equipped with sniper rifles as well. As they landed - a further twenty, the charging Brutes came in range of the heavy guns. The noise of fifty 30. calibre turrets opening fire at once was deafening, and streams of spent brass flew through the air. The aliens fell one by one, their thick bodies torn apart by the heavy shells, but still more came on, bolts of hot red plasma whining past the Firewalls as they fired on the go.

Fred risked a glance around as the Firewall next to him dropped to the floor, her leg burned away. Over to his right he could see nothing, which worried him; Delta squad should've been there by now. He snapped his head back in time to lean out of the way of a plasma bolt and snap off a three round retort that severed the offending Brute's jugular.

Four turrets suddenly ceased firing, their thick plating melted away under the heavy plasma fire. Their wielders leapt backwards, and three of them managed to escape the aftermath, grabbing their primary weapons and opening fire. The fourth, however, wasn't so lucky. The superheated plasma melted through into the firing chamber, igniting the bullet fuses, and sparking off the line of feed like a firework. As the Firewall dived desperately away from the exploding weapon a stream of plasma cut across his path and melted his torso.

"Come on Delta, where the hell are you?" Muttured Fred under his breath as, directly behind him, Linda leapt into the air to clear his head and unloaded four sniper rounds. The long bullets streaked through the air and embedded themselves in the skulls of four Brutes before the sharp-shooting Spartan had even touched the ground again.

"Chief!" She yelled as she hit the ground, "to the north!" Fred looked in the indicated direction, and saw to his relief Delta squad approaching.

The arriving Firewalls had been sent back through the ship to retrieve the 'Hogs the squads had left concealed on the edge of the battle, and now they arrived in spectacular style, runners of dirt being thrown high into the air from their rear wheels. They smashed into the alien flank at full speed, scattering all those fortunate enough to dive aside, and crushing those who weren't.

From above came the rippling sounds of the grav lift activating again. Fred and Linda both spared a glance upwards to see the remaining Firewalls, and the Master Chief, flying towards them. A sucession of dozens of heavy thuds heralded their landing.

"Move out Firewalls!" Bellowed the Master Chief, "load up those 'Hogs and head for the mountain!" The big Spartan pounded forwards, his fellows close on his heels, and the Firewalls followed suit. They tumbled into the scores of 'Hogs, which were moving almost before they were in. Showers of dirt were thrown into the air as they shot forwards towards the mountain that loomed in the smoke and haze.

Blood soaked into the ground, both human and alien, turning the dry, choking dust into thick, clinging mud that stained anything it touched red and purple. Corpses littered the battlefield, and were piled up along the lines of structures and trenches behind which the Marines were sheltered. They crouched behind buildings or ducked down in trenches, firing out at the Covenant who were, for the moment, keeping their distance.

Several hundred yards behind them the last of the great column of troops was charging over the field between the two lines of Scorpions. From his vantage point high above them General Patterson could see the Covenant massing for another charge. They gathered in the maze of craters and trenches that ran between guard towers and the odd polyhedral tent-like structures that seemed to be the standard accomodation for Covenant troops. A quick glance at his own troops told him all he needed to know; they wouldn't be able to hold back this charge.

"Lieutenant General, your opinion please." Dhakal cast a practiced eye over the battlefield and reached the same conclusion as his superior.

"We won't hold this one sir, and we need to - those troops need just a bit more time, but we can't give it. We need to do something fairly drastic."

"A very good assessment General. Any ideas?"

"I was hoping you would have some sir."

"Not yet unfortunately. This might take me a bit of time, which unfortunately we don't have." The two men stood in tense silence for a few moments, before Dhakal drew a tentative breath.

"Sir, have you ever heard of the Ghurkas?"

"Enlighten me."

"They were a Nepalese unit - my home country. They were disbanded several centuries ago and absorbed into the UNSC military, but they were famously fierce - especially when cornered. And their favoured form of defense was... attack sir." Patterson nodded approvingly.

"I'm assuming you have something in mind?"

"Withdraw the infantry to behind the Scorpions, draw the Covenant out. We're not doing them any damage as they hide back there anyway. When they charge at us, thinking we're retreating, turn back - send the Warthogs out first, break up the line with some heavy fire and a full frontal charge, maybe give them a few volleys from the Scorpions if they send out those vehicles first. Then as soon as the column is behind the ramparts pull the infantry back, then the tanks, then the 'Hogs."

"It's the best we've got... unfortunately. It's risky - veeeery risky, and even if it goes right it has the potential for heavy casualties." Patterson sighed, "see to it general."

"Yes sir."

The Master Chief kept one eye on the terrain ahead of his 'Hog, and studied the miniature relief map of the area around the mountain that he had called up in his HUD, over which he had layed a tactical map which displayed all the Covenant and UNSC forces in minute detail. The spearhead through which the UNSC reinforcements were still pouring stood out like a sore thumb - a thick strip of green light, with several thinner lines on either side, surrounded by the greatest concentration of enemy troops he had ever seen. He surveyed the rest of the ground around the mountain and his heart sank - there were no other suitable points of entry. He was going to have to charge his entire force right into the huge mass of enemy troops... of course on the bright side he was going to be charging right into the greatest mass of enemy troops. He smiled thinly - his Spartans had always been most effective on the offensive, and from what he had seen so far, the Firewalls were cut from the same cloth.

He opened a comm channel to the other Spartans and Sergeants Neary and Carella, who seemed to be the nominated seconds for command - after the Spartans of course.

"Heads up soldiers, it looks like our only way in is through this line of attack," he highlighted the area, "circle round the mountain behind this line of hills here," a thread of yellow ran out along the backside of a ridge a mile or so from the mountain, "and we'll follow up the same route the reinforcements took." Acknowledgement lights winked on in his HUD, and the long convoy turned towards the south and thundered off over the hills.

The Marines pounded back over the hard packed earth, sprinting for the cover of the line of Scorpions. They were almost half way back before the Covenant realised what was happening; with a great roar the thousands of Brutes and Jackals leapt from their cover and gave chase. Swarms of Drones filled the air and darkened the sky, shooting through the smokey haze that rose from the battlefield.

As the Marines slipped between the titanium behemoths that stood guard over them the Covenant troops broke through the line of tents that had formerly sheltered the human forces. Hundreds of Warthogs shot out onto the open ground, their huge weapons blazing as they raced forwards. At almost the same instant the rushing whine of plasma drives came from the Covenant lines, and droves of Ghosts and Spectres appeared from the throng of alien forces and returned fire.

The ground shuddered as a massive, thunderous detonation shook everyone present to their very bones. Clouds of dirt and flame shot into the air. White hot shards of metal spun through the air - the remains of the Covenant vehicles. Dozens of Ghosts and Spectres were flung high into the air, to crash down and shatter. The Scorpions managed another volley, which tore into the Covenant ranks and left huge craters in the ground, before the Warthogs smashed into the enemy lines, their huge tires bouncing over the shattered corpses of the alien vehicles.

Human and Covenant vehicles collided at full speed. More explosions sent gouts of flame shooting in all directions, and the burning, twisted remains of Warthog and Ghost alike tangled together and burned fiercely, blue-white plasma flames edging the yellow of the burning petrol.

The lines of vehicles passed each other, the Warthogs crashing into the Covenant infantry that followed behind, crushing Brute and Jackal beneath their heavy bodies. The alien vehicles raced across the open ground towards the lines of Scorpions, plasma flashing from their heavy weapons to melt huge sections of armour from the flanks of the tanks. Scorpion after Scorpion exploded, sending burning debris everywhere, but the Covenant were paying a heavy toll for their victories; the expanse of open ground between where the two forces had been was littered with corpses and wreckage, and those human were all but eclipsed by the horrific numbers of Covenant casualties.

Back at the human lines, the last of the Marines had safely made it over the huge ramparts, and were flowing out along the network of trenches to their pre-assigned positions. Out on the plain, the Scorpions turned ponderously, their huge bodies swivelling as their turrets remained steady, pouring their massive shells into the Covenant ranks, and began to roll towards the defences. Seeing their retreat, the Covenant rushed forwards, harrying the tanks with great sheets of plasma fire. The Warthogs, further out in the battle, tried desperately to hold back the enemy, but the the Covenant simply flowed around them in their thousands.

From the ramparts came sudden relief; hundreds of rockets leapt forward on tails of smoke and slammed into the Covenant ranks. There was a brief respite as the swarms of vehicles fell back, and the Scorpions drew together into a tight square, ready for the next assault; it wasn't long in coming.

The great titanium beasts thundered as the glistening purple vehicles rushed back, but they simply flowed around them, surrounded the formation, and began to whirl around it, firing inwards. The Scorpions kept up a steady rain of fire, taking a massive toll on the Covenant vehicles, and they slowly rolled forwards, crushing the corpses of the broken vehicles beneath them. Volley after volley of rockets spun in from the battlements as the Marines desperately tried to ease the crush of enemies surrounding the tanks, but for every Ghost or Spectre that detonated in a cloud of blue flame, at least three more rushed in.

Despite the heavy losses, the Scorpions' advance was all but unstoppable. As they approached the ramparts the Covenant had the choice to either fall back or be crushed; the path lay clear, the Scorpions rushed for the transient safety of the ramparts. Seeing their break, General Patterson shouted an order into his comm unit, and the hundreds of Warthogs that still battled the Covenant deeper in the field turned and began to speed back.

Seeing their retreat, the Covenant leaped forwards in pursuit. The 'Hogs dodged and weaved madly through the obstacle course of craters and burning wreckage. The massive guns thundered and shook, runnels of dirt flying up from the ground as shots went awry, or tearing chunks out of the iridescent armour of the Covenant vehicles. The faster Ghosts, the Spectres being unable to keep pace with the fleeing 'Hogs, swarmed after them, streams of plasma licking at their rear bumpers, melting tires, armour and Marines alike.

Within the ramparts the Scorpions scrambled to clear the area immediately in front of the ramps, barely having vacated the space before the first of the 'Hogs thundered up the titanium slopes, shot into the air above the heads of the Marines on the walls, and slammed down onto the dirt inside. It skidded away up the mountain towards it's assigned position, and was followed by dozens upon dozens of it's fellows. The retreat was almost complete.

Sergeant Neary killed his engine and let his 'Hog roll to a halt on the lip of the ravine that he had followed up from the ridge. Before him lay the massive bulk of Kilimanjaro, and the even more daunting spectacle of the Covenant forces that lay between him and it. Right ahead of him he could see the rampart about which the fighting swirled, its epicentre the ramps that were their only ticket in to the human defenses. He keyed his radio.

"Master Chief sir, it looks like there's some serious shit going on down there. I can't make it out exactly from where I am, but it might be tricky getting through."

"Roger that Sergeant," came the Chief's voice, "I'll have Spartan -058 check it out." There was a moments pause, then Linda's voice chimed in as well.

"The last few dozen 'Hogs are approaching the ramps now, but the Covenant are right on their tails. There won't be enough time to withdraw the ramps before they're in, and once they get a few Ghosts in there they can probably stop the ramps from going up at all. In short sir, that position is about to be overrun. I suggest immediate action."

"Copy that -058," came the Chief's terse reply. Another moment's pause, then, "right, all units follow my lead, we'll punch right through them, then hold the position long enough to get the ramps up."

Barely had the channel cleared before Neary saw the Master Chief's Warthog leap from it's cover and head straight towards the mass of enemy troops. As he gunned his own vehicle the Spartan's voice came through the Firewalls' universal channel.

"All passengers equip the heaviest weapons you can - we're gonna need all the firepower we can get to make it through." His words were instantly followed by a flurry of activity in all the Warthogs as the Firewalls riding shotgun pulled Jackhammers from their equipment racks, or heaved the .30 cal heavy machine guns up onto the windshield, bracing them against the heavy plexiglass.

Fred's voice came over the radio, calling out an order.

"Hold fire until they notice us - if we can we want to be in among them before they even know we're there." As the channel went dead the Master Chief's acknowledgement light winked on, confirming his subordinate's order. Neary nodded to himself, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel, hoping like hell that they really _could _be that far in before they were noticed, and knew it wouldn't happen. He glanced in his rear-view mirror and saw to his satisfaction the rest of the Firewalls pulling their 'Hogs into a wedge formation behind him and the Chief.

With the extra weight the Spartan in his armour added to his 'Hog, Neary was slowly gaining on the Chief, and so when the rear ranks of the Covenant forces noticed their charge the two vehicles were dead level, the others sweeping out in two great waves behind them, like the tightly furled wings of a diving falcon, and every bit as deadly.

Even as the first few Ghosts began to turn towards them, the Master Chief barked the order to open fire into his radio. The massive guns on the back of the vehicles - both LAAG and Gauss - thundered and roared, and were joined almost in harmony by the hammering of the .30 cals and the steady _whoosh _and _thump_ of the Jackhammer launchers.

The first dozen or so Warthogs were well into the enemy ranks before any significant resistance could be gathered. As the Covenant began to gather around the invading vehicles, withering streams of plasma began to slice into the Warthogs. Whole sections of armour plating evaporated off their flanks in seconds, and all along the ranks explosions sent fireballs high into the air. But still they spurred onwards.

A few Ghosts tried to stop them by flinging themselves directly into the path of the oncoming vehicles, but the much heavier Warthogs simply hurled them aside. There was barely half a mile to go before the Firewalls would reach the safety of the ramparts when there came a panicked shout over the radio.

"Eyes right everyone! Wraiths approaching from the east!" Neary didn't recognise the voice in the heat of battle, but he recognised the hint of hysteria in it, and could sympathise fully - a well aimed Wraith shot could vaporise a 'Hog instantly, and a whole column of them would spell the end for the Firewalls, out in the open as they were.

"Hold it steady Firewall," Neary barked, "they won't fire on us in the middle of their own troops," he glanced to his right as he shut off the channel, and hoped he was right. What he saw left his mouth dry with fear; the Wraiths had stopped several hundred metres from the Firewalls' column, and their great mortar cannons were already cycling, readying to unleash the great globes of plasma, and even worse, all around them the Covenant vehicles that opposed them were turning and speeding away.

Even as he watched, the giant Covenant behemoths lofted their payloads into the air. He followed the glowing white globes in an almost hypnotic fascination as they arced through the air, rising... then falling down... down... down. His 'Hog hit a crater, and the thudding of the heavy tires as they lurched over the lip jolted him from his reverie. He looked ahead again as the mortars began falling all around them. To left and right clouds of dirt and blue-white fire leaped into the sky as they detonated, but only a few scored any hits; four 'Hogs flashed into vapour, and two more escaped the flames with only patches of melted armour. They were lucky, but those were only range-finders. They wouldn't be so fortunate twice.

The Master Chief's iron hard voice came over the radio on a private channel, rock steady in the heat of battle.

"Fred, Sergeant, you know the situation better than I do. You have temporary command." Neary saw Fred's acknowledgement light wink, and flashed his own. Then he spoke into his radio, and heard Fred echo his words almost exactly.

"Sergeant Neary to FFO Maria Wincott, get your birds in here ASAP and take out those Wraiths, and cover us into the defences." There was a tiny, agonising pause, then Wincott's voice replied.

"Roger that sirs, we're on our way. ETA about twenty seconds." Neary grimaced - the Wraiths would fire long before then. They needed something more if they were going to get through this. He glanced over and saw the giant weapons on the tanks start to cylcle again, preparing to fire. He keyed the Firewalls' universal freq. and spoke rapidly.

"Firewalls, hold your course until my order, then scatter as far as possible." He fell silent for a few moments, then saw the tips of the plasma globes appear, mere seconds away from firing. "Scatter! Scatter now! Keep your eyes on the skies, avoid the mortars!" As he spoke he swung the wheel of his 'Hog violently, and the vehicle spun away, roaring away from the column as the plasma leapt into the air. He spared a glance behind him to see the other 'Hogs turning away, weaving into the maze of debris that littered the battlefield.

Far from the scene of the carnage, but closing fast, Maria Wincott saw the dozens of white hot globes leap into the sky, and tweaked the controls of her bird to home in on them. The ground beneath her was rushing past as she pushed her Kestrel as fast as she dared - much faster than a Skyhawk could hope to go and still perform a bombing run. She glanced at her radar and saw her wingmates pull into formation on either side of her, the smoke-obscured sunlight glinting from their metal flanks.

Now she was close enough to see the individual Wraiths as they cycled their weapons, readying for a third volley. As she watched the second volley landed, and great gouts of cracked glass and flame sprayed everywhere. Miraculously, only one Warthog was caught int he deadly rain of projectiles, and as she flashed overhead she spared a brief thought for the Firewalls caught in the burning wreckage. She focused again on the Wraiths, determined that they wouldn't get that third volley off.

Her on-board computer bleeped a range alert at her, and she flipped open the master switch that capped her control stick, depressed the button, and sent four missiles streaming towards the two nearest tanks. They were joined by dozens more as her wingmates opened fire, and the lines of Wraiths vanished in rapid succession, being lost to blossoming mushroom clouds of flame. Her radio crackled, and then the voice of Sergeant Neary spoke in her ear.

"Nice work Wincott - and impeccable timing I might add. Now come around and cover us into the defenses - we're gonna need something heavy to get in there." She blinked an acknowledgement light and pulled her bird around - again far tighter and faster than a Skyhawk could manage, she couldn't help but marvel at the Kestrel's dexterity - and sped back towards the Firewalls' convoy. She could see immediately that Neary was right; the Covenant vehicles, momentarily disheartened by the loss of the Wraiths, were now flooding back towards the 'Hogs with renewed vigour.

"Okay Kestrels let's give those boys some cover, I want two squadrons to..."

"Ma'am, Banshees inbound at 5 o'clock!" Interupted her co-pilot urgently. She looked again at her radar, and saw the specks of light approaching fast behind her. She made a snap decision and barked out her orders.

"First and second squadrons on me, let's rattle an' roll those Banshees then keep the airspace clear, all other squadrons cover the ground-pounders, move it!" She spun her Kestrel away, noting with pride the fluid grace with which her wingmates responded to her orders, and tilted the nose of her bird up, gaining altitude. The Banshees that were now ahead and below her began to pull up as well, their plasma cannons firing, streams of superheated energy licking at her tail-fins. She shot over the alien fliers, and almost felt them scream underneath her.

"Let's see what this thing can _really _do," she growled, and tugged the stick right back, twisting it round at the same time. Her bird described a delicate arc through the sky, barrel rolling and it did so, so that she came out of her loop right on the Banshees' tails and right way up. The huge minugun beneath her nose opened up, shredding first one, then two of the ten Banshees that lay before her. The remaining eight scattered, evading the Kestrels' fire desperately, rolling and spinning. Wincott signalled for her squadrons to engage at will, and they immediately broke formation, leaping forwards like dogs freed from a leash.

They matched the alien fliers turn for turn, hails of lead bullets tearing through the air to rip chunks of armour from the frantically evading Banshees. Wincott released a pair of rockets, watched them flash through the air and consume another Banshee, then banked off away from the action, casting a practiced eye over the battlefield - both aerial and ground-based. There were only a few straggling Banshees left now, and her two squadrons were making short work of them. The four other squadrons or seven had formed up over the entrance to the ramparts and were holding back the tide of Covenant from the last human reinforcements with main force, storms of bullets and volleys of missiles tearing the alien troops apart. Further out, amidst a small knot of Covenant forces, there seemed to be some kind of trouble...

PFC Archer slammed a hand against the frame of the 'Hog as it went over yet another crater and nearly flung her from the passenger seat. She lifted her sniper rifle to her shoulder again and squeezed off a shot at the enemy as the vehicle sailed smoothly through the air. She saw the contrail of her bullet enter a Brute's head just as the 'Hog came to earth with a bone-shaking thud. She looked up to see the alien she had scored slump to the ground, then turned her eyes forwards again. Her driver swerved wildly, and the titanium plating on her side slammed up against a knot of Jackals, sending their broken bodies flying in all directions.

She primed and tossed a frag grenade into a swarm of Drones that had come to rest over the corpse of a Brute, and the Warthog fishtailed away as flame belched up among them.She was about to let out a jubilant war-whoop when a huge thud sounded behind her and the 'Hog skewed wildly through the mud. There was a scream from her gunner and she looked back to see a Brute clinging to the LAAG, and tearing madly at the Firewall with it's claws. She shoved her sniper rifle down by her feet and drew her sidearm, twisting round in her seat as the driver fought with the wheel to regain control. She snapped off three rounds at the beast's head, the bullets going dangerously close to her companion, and the Brute's helmet cracked and fell away.

With an angry roar the Brute slashed the straps that held the Firewall on to the gun, and grabbed his arm. With a wrench and a scream the Firewall was hurled from the vehicle, and was swarmed under by a crowd of Jackals. Archer caught a glimpse of her companion desperately trying to fend off the aliens, before the Brute was right in her face. She slammed the butt of her pistol into its snout, then fired a shot into the paw that gripped the metal beside her. The paw slipped from its hold, and the Brute's feet dragged along the ground. It flailed wildly as Archer smashed her pistol into its face again and again, then finally it managed to seize the underside of the 'Hog's chassis. With a heave it began to lift the vehicle over onto its side, slamming its huge feet into the dirt.

It gave a final wrench, and as the 'Hog tipped and she was flung from her seat, Archer activated her panic signal.

Neary was approaching the huge ramp that would lead him into the defences when the urgently flickering red light appeared in his HUD. He acknowledged it with a thrust of his chin, and a NAV marker appeared on his visor; directly behind him. He gritted his teeth and swung the wheel, weaving back through the other vehicles that thundered past him.

"Sir!" Yelled his gunner, "permission to speak freely sir!"

"Permission denied Private, there's men out there, and we don't leave our own to die do we?" He transmitted the panic signal to his two passengers, and killed his comm. unit.

"Are you sure this is entirely wise Sergeant," Kendra's voice spoke softly in his ear, startling him with its gentle tone amidst the battle.

"I'm afraid I don't see your point Kendra," he replied woodenly, his eyes fixed on the terrain ahead, watching the nav marker in his HUD grow closer as he spoke.

"The sacrifice of one trooper – unfortunately I've lost contact with the other two Firewalls in Private Archer's vehicle – is understandable and tactically acceptable when weighed against a figure of authority and skill such as yourself. The Firewall unit as a whole would be better served by your continued presence than hers." Up ahead Neary could see a cluster of alien troops crowded around a wrecked Warthog.

"Do us both a favour Kendra, and churn that through your emotional subroutines before saying it again. You were human once, start acting like it." He shut her off, and shifted a hand to the handbrake.

As the heavy vehicle came roaring up to the knot of Covenant forces Neary wrenched the handbrake and twisted the wheel, sending the 'Hog slewing sideways through the crowd. It shuddered wildly against the heavy bodies of the Brutes in the crowd, but the lighter Jackals and Drones were sent flying, broken, through the air.

The 'Hog skidded to a halt, the Covenant scattered momentarily, beside the crumpled wreckage of Archer's flipped vehicle. Neary's passengers immediately opened fire, keeping the Covenant pinned down, buying Neary the precious seconds he needed.

He leapt from the driver's seat and ran over to the flipped 'Hog. As he approached, Private Archer crawled out from beneath the broken chassis. Neary came to a halt beside her and pulled her to her feet.

"Come on Private; Covenant won't wait forever!" He half supported her, half dragged her over to his 'Hog and practically threw her onto the back, where she crouched beneath the barrell of the huge gun that thundered above her, spent casings raining down around her. Neary dove into the driving seat once more and floored the accelerator. The 'Hog's heavy tires spun furiously, sending up great showers of dirt, and the 'Hog began to move off, even as the Covennat began to close in on them once more. Neary rammed a path through their ranks, while the three Firewalls beside and behind him worked furiosuly to keep the aliens from swarming the vehicle under.

He swerved around a burning Spectre and saw to his relief the ramps leading into the defenses straigh ahead, Marines and Firewalls alike manning the ramparts to either side, the Kestrels hovering above, waepons blazing, trying desperately to hold back the Covenant for just long enough. Neary gunned the engine, trying to push his foot throught he floor in his desperation, and the 'Hog found some last vestige of acceleration, and sped towards the welcome safety of the ramparts.

It shot up the ramps and into the cleared area behind like a bullet, landing with a bone-shaking thump. The Covenant had poured forwards in their full numbers behind the Warthog and were threatening to breach the ramparts. Five Kestrels peeled away from the hovering formationa and shot up high, flipping over and diving back down towards the ramps. The other Kestrels parted and began to rise as missiles streaked from beneath the wings of the five and flashed towards the titanium ramps, now thick with charging Covenant troops.

Fire blosssomed across the heavy metal, consuming the charging aliens in droves. Shattered metal flew in all directions, embedding itself in rock and flesh alike. The broken remnants of the huge metal ramps crashed to the earth, carrying the burned and broken bodies of the Covenant troops with them.

The Covenant fell back momentarily, stunned by the ferocity of the sudden strike. In the brief reprieve, the Firewalls spread out along the ramparts, joining the fresh reinforcements that had already taken up their positions. The troops that had held the defences from the beginning were stood down, and fell back to the fourth line.

Wing Commander Stewart nudged the controls of her Longsword with precise delicacy, and the angular craft shifted position ever so slightly within the formation. The mavouevre required only the tiniest amount of engine power, but Stewart shut it off as soon as she dared.

Her squadron floated, absolutely still, concealed within a pocket of space dust that had been caught in the massive gravity well of the planet that formed the majestic backdrop to the battle.

A tiny flicker of power passed through the cockpit; just enough to illuminate the radar screen. Stewart spared it a brief glance, saw the Covenant proceeding as before – right into the trap.

Between the squadron and the Covenant fleet some four hundred thousand kilometres distant, the NOVA device lurked, dark and silent.

Power flickered across the cockpit of Stewart's bird again, and this time her comm. unit hummed gently at her – the signal. She eased the throttle forwards, and the engines glowed softly, accelerating her gently out of the dust cloud.

"Fasten up." She muttered, and she and her co-pilot both tightened their vac-suits and sealed their helmets. She hit the small button in front of her, and the loading ramp at the rear of the craft slammed open. The atmosphere within the Longsword decompressed explosively. Stewart and her co-pilot were pressed back into their seats by the sudden acceleration.

The squadron shot forward silently towards the approaching Covenant fleet. Thousands of miles behind them twenty of the remaining human capital ships began to accelerate towards the Covenant fleet.

So far, the plan was working perfectly; the Covenant immdeiately turned and accelerated towards the approaching human capital ships, overlooking the near-invisible Longswords that were still streaking towards them, unseen against the blackness of space.

Searing light flared in the itch blackness of space. The front view port of the Longsword immediately polarised to its darkest level, but Stewart and her co-pilot were still blinded for the best part of five seconds, and blinked furiously while the after-image faded. When the light faded away, the Covenant fleet was still there – all but unharmed. The shields a the few at the fore of the fleet were shimmering and flickering, but still very much functional.

From the command deck of the _Final Redoubt _Lord Hood stood gapin for a moment before he came to his senses.

"Too early!" He bellowed, "why did it detonate then? It wasn't set to go off for another twenty seconds at least!"

The holographic projector in front of him flickered briefly, then a shrouded figured appeared there.

"Foolish human," it said softly, almost chidingly, "to think we could be fooled by so simple device as a trap." It flickered again and vanished.

"Virgil!" Hood roared, "what the hell was that thing?" All around him his under-officers were in chaos, trying to make sense of the situation. Virgil's voice was a sudden pool of calm.

"I'm afraid I don't know Admiral. It appeared in my systems only for the briefest of moments – to deliver that message – then it was gone."

"And the NOVA!"

"Again unknown Admiral. It detonated early…"

"I know that!" Hood turned away from the AI and towards the holo-display that showed the encroaching battle. The two fleets – if his own forces could be deemed a 'fleet' any longer were still racing towards each other, and the Longswords were still, apparently, unnoticed. The Covenant fleet was nearly on them now, and with the NOVA detonation early, they were going to be sitting ducks as soon as they opened fire. Hood decided immediately.

"All capital ships open fire! Pour everything you have at them, one volley as much as you can, then get the hell away from there! Fall back to Ganymede orbit and take up station around the MACs to await further orders! Longswords, pull out, say again pull out! Do not engage, their shields are still active!"

The order came too late. Assuming all had gone according to plan, the Longswords had opened fire on the Covenant vessels even as Hood began to speak. Missiles streaked through space, and splashed their force harmlessly over the shields of the mighty ships.

Stewart gaped at the shimmering silver screen before her, then the order came through – she had ears for only one part; 'pull out'.

"No shit," she muttered in a fury, as she tugged hard on her stick, and the Longsword angled away from the huge ship in front. It shot in between the ranks of the alien fleet, curving back on itself as the point-defense lasers flashed futilely in its wake.

"Ma'am! Seraph fighters inbound at four o'clock!" Her co-pilot marked the incoming fighters on the tac-display, and Stewart nodded. They had expected this – they hadn't expected the fire from the capital ships however; they were all meant to be knocked out by the NOVA. Those lasers would mean they'd have to maitain as high a speed as possible to throw off the tracking systems, and that would severely limit her manouevring options.

"Alphas, split up – we need to separate out those Separhs a bit. Don't slow down whatever you do, but try to loop around each other, catch the bastards from behind. We'll be out of here quick as you like, then everyone high-tail it back to the fleet, Stewart out." She shut off the channel, and flipped her bird over. It dove down between two destroyers, and the automatic lasers of the two ships missed her by a hair's breadth and splashed across the shields of the other.

"Too close boss – let's step it up a bit," her co-pilot said nervousely.

"Roger that." Stewart flipped open her intake ports, and the great afterburners roared to life, kicking the two pilots back in their seats with the sudden acceleration. The Seraphs flared their engines and chassed them frantically, weaving in and out of the huge ships, laser fire glancing off shields all around them.

Off to port, and just ahead of her, Stewart saw Knife Zero-Four emerge from behind a cruiser, three Seraphs hot on his tail. She angled over towards him, dipping and weaving to slow her intercept, and slotted in neatly behind the alien flyers. With barely a pause for thought she lined up her sights and opened fire on the nearest Seraph. Her cannons chugged and roared, and the Seraph's shields flared and shimmered, then died. The huge bullets chewed into the glittering metal and cut the ship to pieces in seconds. The other two Seraphs saw their wingmate's demise, and began to dodge and roll, evading her fire – just. Their manouevring at such speeds were as limited as Stewart's.

A line of plasma above her wing reminded her of her own tailers, and she began to roll herself. Her cannons thundered continuously, hot lead zipping through space, tracing lines across the Seraphs, flaring their shields, while plasma and laser fire flashed all around her. Zero-Four was pulling off miracles of evasion ahead of her – seemingly untouchable her all but danced in and out of the massive Covenant ships, rolling and diving around the hapless alien fighters.

As Stewart raked her cannons across the tailing Seraph, she saw Zero-Four's engines die suddenly. She gasped in horror and gunned her own bird forward to help him. The Seraphs chasing him also leapt forward to attack, seeing their enemy crippled. As they approached, Stewart saw Zero-Four's attitude jets flare once, and she grinned evilly. Zero-Four flipped end over end, and steadied himself facing the Seraphs. Before they could react, half a dozen missiles flashed from beneath his wings, flashing towards the two Seraphs, now far too close to evade. They detonated in twin blooms of fire, and Stewart sighed in relief as Zeo-Four flipped himself back over and shot off.

Stewart turned her attention back to the Seraphs on her six, and pulled her bird round in another long arc, weaving it around several destroyers until she was once more headed out of the fleet.

"Two-Six to all assault wings, converge on this point," she marked it on the tac display, "and leave together. All reserve wings be ready to pull us outta the fray when we emerge." She dodged and jinked, firing whenever she saw a Seraph ahead of her, and meandered her way towards the rally point.

As she approached she saw an intense dogfight raging in the confined spaces between the capital ships; her Longswords couldn't leave the cover of the fleet until they were all assembled, and naturally they were somewhat vulnerable when so confined. She saw puffs of light as fighters exploded, and noted with pride that many more of the casualties were Covenant than human. She wondered at this – always before the losses had been fairly even, ever since the beginning of her tour of duty, but now they were more in the humans' favour. She assumed that was due to the change in pilots – she had heard that this fleet was piloted entirely by the Brutes. The Elites had been far more skilled – not that she was complaining.

"Ready to go Two-Six? You're the last to arrive," came One-Seven's voice over the radio.

"Roger that One-Seven. Two-Six to all 'Swords – break now, head for home." The dozens of Longswords turned immediately and burst out of the Covenant lines. Stewart was right behind them, and swarms of Seraphs were right behind her. Out in the open, the Longswords' evasion options were severly reduced, and it became ever more a matter of chance as to whether the Seraphs scored hits on them. One small relief was that the capital ships were no longer taking pot shots at them with their point defense systems for fear of hitting their own fighters.

Suddenly, from the flanks, the reserve Longsword wings appeared as of from nowhere. Caught off-guard, the Seraphs were thrown into instant confusion by the savage ferocity of the Longswords' assault. ASGM-10 missiles left streaks of light across the void as they slammed into the alien fighters, and the huge 110mm rounds from the rotary cannons lit the undersides of the angular wings like fireworks. In moments the Covenant force had been cut in half, and the other half were routing, fleeing back to the safety of the capital ships. The reserve wings turned from their victory and sped away as fast as they could manage, out of reach of the deadly lasers.

Stewart sighed with relief once more, and directed her bird towards the retreating shape her newly assigned carrier, the _UNSC Hammer. _She wondered at the late retreat of the human fleet – in the wake of the disastrous early detonation she would've thought they'd escape as quickly as they could manage. She looked at ther reverse display cameras, and saw signs of devastation within the Covenant fleet, and understood – Hood had ordered the fleet to assualt the Covenant to buy her fighters time to escape. If they got out of this alive, she decided she wanted to thank the Admiral personally for that.

Admiral Hood watched the panicked retreat of his fleet in dismay. Again he asked the question that was at the forefront of every mind on the command deck.

"Why did that NOVA go early?" No-one dared to answer him – few enough heard, intent as they were on salvaging what they could from the rout. Only Virgil spoke up.

"I told you before Admiral, I honestly don't know. To my knowledge that NOVA was set up perfectly, in complete concordance with the specifications required for the trap to work. Even I couldn't have tampered with it once it was armed." Hood sighed in frustration, and with an effort pulled himself together.

"There's no use worrying about it now. Pull the fleet back to low Ganymede orbit and move the shipyards into position. Form the MACs up around the shipyards, and tell them to open up as soon as the enemy are in range." Virgil didn't respond, but the shifts in the tac display were all the answer Hood needed.

The five huge shipywards moved ponderously into postion, each the size of a small town, and each with seventeen of the massive MAC stations stationed around it. Beneath them, orbiting closer to the surface of the canyon-scarred moon circled thirty ships of the human fleet.

The Covenant fleet moved closer, a certain sign of caution showing in their approach. Although the human forces weren't to know, or even most of the Covenant aboard their fleet, but the intelligence controlling the alien ships had been more shaken by the trap than was obvious.

Stewart watched their approach on the tac display, safely ensconced in the _Hammer's _launch bay.

"Come on you bastards, quit pussy-footing around out there and get fighting." Stewart's co-pilot looked over at his companion and grinned; Stewart was practically bouncing in her seat in her impatience.

"Confident much?" He asked.

"We're alive Gilson, and plenty of them aren't. That's good enough for me." Gilson laughed, and even Stewart managed a tight grin through her tension.

"Of course, whether or not we'll still be alive in a few minutes time is neither here nor there," Gilson chuckled.

"Well naturally. Why concern ourselves with minor details like impending death? It's never stopped us before." A voice over the radio interupted them – Admiral Hood's.

"Here they come people, get ready. Fighters be ready to engage – assault force just go straight for their fleet when I give the order, never mind anything else. Cover force be sure you keep their fighters off ours, then pull back and protect the fleet once the assualt force is doing it's job." Stewart nodded to herself, and started her engines' warm up cycle.

The Covenant fleet lurked just outside the MAC stations' range, and slowly spread out, like a pool of water spreading around a patch of oil. Suddenly they leaped forward, their great engines flaring like so many supernovae. They were met by a massive volley from the MAC stations, the huge shells leaping forwards on white hot tails of vapourised metal.

Once again the Covenant seemed to know the trajectories of the huge shells even before they were fired, and the targeted ships moved delicately to one side, out of their paths. But Virgil had seen this coming, and had again ordered the MAC stations to fire in clusters, trapping the huge ships and dropping them neatly. Virgil had clearly altered his tactics – the clusters were now fired in threes, encasing the ships in triangles of deadly metal wide enough to prevent their escape, but narrow enough to score a hit whichever way the Covenant tried to manouevre.

Again and again the MAC stations fired, dropping nearly two hundred of the alien behemoths before the enemy fleet was close enough to return fire. Lines of ruby red fire built up along their broadsides, preparing to unleash the deadly plasma torpedoes.

The human fleet moved into an elliptical orbit around Ganymede, and as they approached the apex of their circuit, closest to the Covenant fleet, they unleashed a volley of MAC shells and Archer missiles. As the shells raced towards the alien ships, an answering volley came from the sparkling purple vessels, the red fire of the plasma casting bloody shadows across their hulls.

The human ships turned to flee behind the bulk of the moon as their volley hammered into the Covenant fleet. Again Virgil had ordered the MAC shells fired in tight triangles, with the Archer missiles in between. The faster MAC shells hammered into the Covenant shields, which flickered and died, then the ships were consumed as the Archer missiles detonated on their prows, fire washing down over them, fading to reveal twisted, melted metal skeletons.

The Covenant's return fire was not directed at the UNSC ships, however, but at the far more deadly Stations that surrounded the great shipyards. The Stations clustered behind the massive hulks of the shipyards, easily eclipsed by the vast expasnses of metal. The plasma splashed across the shipyards, melting through layer after layer of titanium and steel, but there wasn't nearly enough to melt through the whole of the great stations.

The shipyards spun slowly about, their melted sections glowing white hot, to reveal dozens of ship-grade MAC guns that had been jury-rigged on to them. As they spun the MAC stations fanned out around them like a deadly halo, and the ships of the fleet re-emerged from behind the satellite below.

Hundreds of MAC cannons flashed, sending their packets of destruction hurtling towards the Covenant fleet. The giant Station-born shells were still fired in their trios, but the other shells were only fired in pairs. The reason for this was soon revealed.

As the great chunks of metal hammered into the Covenant ships, the shields dimmed and faded – nearly spent. There was also a slight flicker in the targeted Covenant ships' running lights – the impacts had jarred their circuitry, temporarily disabling some of their systems.

In this brief moment of weakness thousands of Archer missiles leapt from concealed pods on the shipyards, and hundreds from the ships of the fleet. They streaked through space, unimpeded as the Covenant's point defense lasers were temporarily crippled. A great wave of burning light blossomed across the wall of ships that opposed the human forces. The aliens' shields, finally taxed far beyond breaking point, winked out almost instantly, allowing the huge energies to wash over the unprotected ships beneath.

The light faded to reveal a scene of devastation – two hundred and fifty Covenant ships had been all but vapourised, and the wreckage that blanketed the fore of the alien fleet attributed the violence of the assault – nowhere was there a piece of debris more than ten yards across, and all of it looked like melted butter, dripping and warped.

The Covenant hung in space, stunned momentarily by the ferocity of the humans' defence. This hesitation was all Virgil needed. Pushing the various reactors almost to meltdown, the MAC cannons recharged and fired once more, smashing through the cloud of debris into the Covenant ships. The Covenant reacted this time, their damaged ships moving back into the protection of the fleet, and others moving forwards.

The fresh ships immediately began charging their plasma torpedoes, and as the thousands of Archer missiles streamed towards them pinpoints of brilliant blue light dotted the lines of blood red that banded their broadsides as their point defense lasers licked out towards the incoming missiles. Plumes of flame flashed in the cloud of missiles, but there were far too many even for the Covenant ships to destroy. They unleashed their fury on the stoic vessels, their silver shields shimmering beneath the intense heat.

Finally, like soap bubbles, the shields popped and died under the massive energies. The fires faded away, and nearly five hundred Covenant capital ships lay unshielded; the UNSC fleet, however, had no more weapons left to fire. The Archer pods were dry, and would take time to be reloaded, and the MAC cannons had been pushed almost to breaking point and would need to be given time to recover before they could be used again. The collossal weapons on the MAC stations were never quiet, however, and thundered again and again, dropping the Covenant ships by the dozen. There weren't enough, however, to take advantage of the enemy's weakness; the shields would recharge long before the MAC stations could destroy the unprotected vessels.

Suddenly, fire blossomed along the broadside of a Covenant destroyer that stood at the fore of the fleet. Two hundred Longsword fighters plunged into the thick of the fleet, weaving in and out of the capital ships.

"We did not see them."

"They are small. The humans within are focused on one thing only – they cause little disturbance."

"We should have seen them."

"It is becoming… difficult."

"Good. They are close."

Stewart rolled her 'Sword, and the blinding blue beam of the laser flashed beneath her wings. The cabin temperature spiked momentarily, and the bolt of energy crashed into the side of a frigate opposite the destroyer that had fired.

"Jesus, at this rate we won't need to fire a shot!" Came One-Seven's voice, "they're doing a better job of destroying themselves than we can!" Stewart looked at the ships around her and saw that he was right; unshielded, the automatic point defense systems were wreacking havoc all around her, massive holes burnt through layers of thick armour plating evidencing the damage.

"Let's not take any chances One-Seven," she replied, "we've got a whole lotta arse to kick, and not much time to do it. Radiation scans are already spiking, which means their shields are building. Let's make this quick then get the hell outta here."

"Roger. Starting attack run on target 159, requesting assistance."

"On it One-Seven. Red squadron one, assault 159." Stewart steered her bird through a tiny gap between two cruisers and saw her target up ahead. Off to starboard she could see One-Seven approaching the target, and her radar showed the seven other fighters in red squadron one close on her tail.

The nine Longswords spread out into a line, diving and rolling to avoid the ever-present risk of the point defense lasers that flashed around them. A thick beam sizzled past One-Seven's wing, and burned a hole deep into the flank of the target destroyer.

"I call that target zone!" Called One-Seven instantly.

"Bastard," Stewart muttured, "I wanted that." Turning her attention to the side of the destroyer she searched for target zones.

"There," said Gilson, and highlighted an open launch bay. Enhancing the view screen, Stewart could see Brutes scrambling to their Seraphs, readying for a emergency launch.

"Too late boys," she grinned, "good spot Gilson." He gave her a nod, and marked the launch bay on the tac display. All along the destroyer the other Longswords were marking their target zones. Stewart's weapon lock flashed at her, and she immediately depressed her firing studs. Her missile pods glowed, and four missiles flashed from her bird towards the Covenant. Almost simultaneously the other 'Swords opened up, and thirty six plumes of exhaust fumes traced their paths towards the doomed vessel.

The explosions penetrated the ship's most vulnerable areas, striking power conduits, open launch bays, plasma turrets. Gouts of blue flame chained up the length of the detroyer, before the main reactor detonated. A blinding flash of light concealed the ship, then faded. As Stewart pulled her bird around, the light faded, and she had a brief glimpse of the destroyer ripped clean in half before she focused on her next target.

"Seraphs, inbound at three o'clock!" Called Gilson.

"Copy that. Zero-Seven, take red one and take out that cruiser." Stewart glanced at her tac display, then, "green four and blue two, on me, we'll cover red one." Acknowledgement lights winked on her display, and she banked starboard, swinging away from red one, and bringing her bird around in a long curve.

The two dozen Seraphs bearing down on One-Seven and his squadron didn't notice her pull away, and it wasn't until she formed up with green squadron four that a few of them began to turn away, trying to come around to face them; too late.

Green four opened up with everything they had, missiles and bullets thundering through space to tear into the Seraphs. They immediately scattered as their shields flared, and four of them were nothing more than scatteed debris within seconds. Just as the Covenant fliers were about to form up into a dogfighting formation, blue squadron two crashed into their flank, tearing into them like wolves into sheep. Eight more Seraphs were destroyed before the others could react, and by the time they did it was all but too late.

The two squadrons of Longswords darted in and out of the Seraphs, flashing in between the alien fliers then making a long curve back around. Each time they flew in, a Seraph died, missiles streaking from the swooping Longswords into the desperate, confused Covenant.

As the last Seraph exploded in a silent flash of light, Admiral Hood's voice crackled over the radio.

"Hood to all fighter squadrons. We're picking up major radiation spikes from the capital ships, which can only mean one thing; their shields are almost back online. Make your last kills and get outta there ASAP."

Stewart winked her acknowledgement light to the command post, and opened up a channel of her own.

"Two-Six to red one, green four and blue two. This is our last kill, so let's make it a good one – go out with a bang."

"Roger that Two-Six," came Zero-Four's voice over the radio, "my blues spotted a carrier on the way in – big bastard, right between us and the exit anyway, it'd be perfect, marking it on tac display now." The tiny marker appeared on Stewart's display, and she peered between two cruisers at the appropriate spot; sure enough, a huge carrier, half as big again as any normal Covenant carrier, lay directly between her current position and the UNSC fleet.

"Good spot Zero-Four, we'll take it. You take blue squadron two round and assault its starboard flank, One-Seven you take green squadron four and assault the port flank, I'll take red squadron one, we'll go right over the top, lay down some fire on its dorsal lines." Acknowledgemt lights winked on the board in front of her, and green four and blue two peeled away, flying in loose, fluid formations to throw off the tracking lasers.

"More Seraphs, on our six Wing Commander!"

"Roger that red one-three. One-eight and one-seven on me, we'll bank off, fall back and take out those Seraphs, red one, you keep on the target, we'll catch you up." Stewart wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, and it came away dripping with sweat. Gilson noticed and said,

"It's cool boss, we're all over this." Stewart nodded and banked her 'Sword hard, pulling it back and around in a sharp curve. The five Seraphs that were tailing red one saw her manouevre, echoed by reds one-seven and one-eight, and pulled out of their chase to engage. Stewart raked her cannons across the shields of the first as she went past, and saw the return fire of its plasma cannons skim across her bow.

More cannon fire hammered into the Seraph's shields as one-eight raked it with his guns. Stewart curved around a destroyer, the Seraph still hot on her tail, and saw to her dismay that one-eight had lost her pursuer – she glanced at the tac display, trying to find him, and Gilson, seemingly reading her mind, said,

"He got tailed – had to break away."

"Roger that. Dammit, we'll have to do this the hard way. Brace yourself." Gilson gripped the stick in front of him tightly as Stewart threw her bird over into a diving barrel roll. The Longsword and Seraph plunged beneath the destroyer, and Stewart pulled out of the dive, hugging the ship's belly as she came up. Dead ahead she could see one-seven engaged in a ferocious dogfight with two Seraphs, and noted with admiration that, far from evading, as would be expected when outnumbered, her wingmate was attacking the two Covenant fliers with as much force as they were him. She gunned her engines, and shot towards the trio. As she approached she locked on to the closest Seraph, and let four missiles tumble from beneath her wings, speeding towards the hapless flier. The Covenant fighter didn't see them coming at all, and his companion was thrown in a spin by the explosion that claimed the tear-drop shaped vessel.

Stewart and one-seven both turned their cannons on the spinning Seraph, hammering the shields into submission. The shimmering screen of silver flashed and sparkled and, eventually, died. The massive rounds from the rotary cannons shredded the metal within in seconds, tearing it into pieces.

"Thanks boss, you saved my tail-feathers there!" Came one-seven's voice over the comms.

"Now you can return the favour!" Called Stewart, once again spurring her bird forward, away from the Seraph that still tailed her. Lines of plasma flashed past her on both sides, and she rolled and banked to throw off the enemy's fire. One-seven pulled his 'Sword around behind the pair and opened up, missiles streaking from beneath the angular wings to connect with the Seraph. The explosion died away to reveal an unshielded, but undamaged Seraph, still hot on Stewart's tail.

"Son of a bitch is taking quite a beating," one-seven noted calmly over the radio.

"Well finish it soon!" Stewart called back far less calmly, as yet another spray of plasma missed her by inches, the intense radiation leaving a streak of molten metal over the surface of her wing. One-seven didn't reply, but a hail of bullets slammed into the Seraph. Its engine fizzed pathetically, then died. The fighter spun off, dark and silent, into the distance.

"Good job one-seven, now where's one-eight got to?"

"Off to port, just beneatht eh nose of that destroyer."

"Let's go help him out then." Stewart pulled her bird around and opened up the huge intake ports on her engines. The afterburners roared, and she shot forwards toward one-eight, who was looping around the nose of the destroyer, evading the two Seraphs on his tail.

"Hang in there one-eight, we're almost there!" She barked into the radio, urging her bird to go faster.

"Trying Wing Commander, they're getting wise to me… running out of option… _oh shi…" _one-eights panicked scream was cut short as the blue bolt of a point defense laser flashed from a nearby frigate. The stream of energy sliced into the tangled trio, and into the nose of the still unshielded destroyer. Stewart blinked furiously, trying to clear the line that had been burned across her eyes by the intense light, and when it faded she saw… nothing. The laser had obliterated both one-eight and his two tailers. All that was left was a rapidly expanding cloud of debris and atmosphere from the punctured destroyer.

"Son of a bitch!" Screamed one-seven, "Stewart let's get that bastard!" Stewart was almost ready to agree, her rage blinding her almost as much as the laser had, but she returned to her senses almost immediately.

"Negative one-seven," she said through clenched teeth, "we don't have enough support – we'd be annihilated on approach, or failing that we'd just be wasting valuable missiles."

"But ma'am…" he began,

"But nothing dammit! You know I'm right, now shut up and head for the target ship, we've gotta catch up with the others! That's an order flyboy!" She slammed a fist down on to the control panel before her and killed the connection. Out her starboard viewport she saw one-seven bank away and head for the targeted carrier, and she followed his lead, pushing her engine as far as she dared in order to catch up with the rest of red one.

"Hurry it up out there people," came Hood's voice once more over the radio, "you have an estimated thirty seconds before their shields are up, and then all hell's going to break loose. Get out of there!" Stewart grunted in acknowledgement and crouched over her control stick, pushing her throttle as far as it could go. Up ahead, nearly in firing range of the target carrier, she could see the rest of red one, lined up in a perfect bombing run formation, and off to either lfank of the carrier she saw blue two and green four lined up for strafing runs. She sent a warning light ahead to red one as she and one-seven roared up behind the rest of the squadron, their engines red lining. Stewart was counting down the seonds in her head. _Twenty one… twenty… _they were still several kilometres outside firing range, catching red one fast.

_Fourteen… thirteen… _Stewart, with one-seven right behind her, screamed above red one, and she saw in her rear view camera the rest of the squadron gun their engines to keep pace with them.

_Ten… nine… _they were in firing range now. Stewart marked her target zone, knowing that her squadron would be doing the same, and locked on. _Seven… six… _Eight missiles, her full compliment, left the pods nestled beneath her wings, and raced towards the carrier. Close behind them, the dozens of missiles from red one followed closely. Off to her sides, Stewart could just make out the exhaust trails of the missiles from blue two and green four.

_Four… three… _Stewart saw a laser turret up ahead moving to track her, and she rolled her bird off to one side, just in time. The laser flashed beneath the belly of her 'Sword. Behind her, one-four, unable to evade the laser he hadn't seen, flew straight into the path of deadly brilliance. An explosion, and a cloud of debris, and red squadron one's tally was reduced by one more.

_Two… _the missiles connected with the carrier. Explosions leapt up along the dorsal line, a long line of fire running all the way up the length of the vessel. Gouts of flame leapt up towards the racing Longswords, which scattered and rolled to avoid the explosions.

_One… _too late, the carriers shields recharged. A shimmering curtain of silver glowed for a brief instant, before the detonations along the ships tore the power conduits thaat lined its innards apart. All power within the ship died, and it went dark momentarily. Then the chain of explosions reached the armoury within the ships. The various weaponry and explosives detonated, and the ship was torn in two from within, debris and flame belching oout in a great cloud.

Out from the fire came the three squadrons of Longswords, the ruddy light making their wings glow red. Zero-Four's triumphant yell rang through Stewarts cabin, and Gilson sighed with relief. Stewart laughed, almost hysterically, as her squadrons fled back towards the human fleet.

"Umm… Two-Six, I don't think we can relax just yet." One-Seven's worried voice shook her from her relief, and she looked more closely at the fleet.

It was preparing to fire.

"Uh-oh," she whispered. Her mind was blank – to have survived all that only to be destroyed by her own forces, it was too much to take in. The great MAC Staations were pointing seemingly directly at her, and she imagined she could see the massive shells within, ready to smash her apart to her component atoms.

"Ma'am, they're only firing on a tight plane on the y-axis!" Yelled Gilson, suddenly. Stewart looked, and saw he was right – there was very little vertical spread in the fleet's firing positions. There might still be a chance, if only they could…

"All squadrons, up and over, right now!" She barked, her command returning to her. She pulled back on her stick as hard as she could, and the sudden gee forces thrust her back into her seat so hard she nearly blacked out. All around her the other Longswords were following suit, taking this last desperate gamble for their lives.

"Once they fire ma'am, we'll have less than a second…" Gilson began, but the flashes of white light along the line of the fleet cut him off. Stewart squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch the approaching shells – not that she would have seen them before they obliterated her. She kept them closed for a good five seconds, wondering what it would feel like, before she realised… she was still alive to wonder. They had made it out in time.

"Report in squads," she whispered into her radio, unable to get her voice working properly. She had to know if they'd all made it. The call-in seemed interminable, and she ticked the numbers off in her head.

"Blue twos two and six, green fours five and six, red one three, report in," she said weakly, after the radio had fallen silent. She waited… nothing. She closed her eyes again, pulling her bird out of its ascent and levelling it back towards the still firing fleet. Beneath the Longswords the huge MAC shells flashed lines of white light across the void, all unbeknownst to Stewart, who felt the tears stinging her eyes. Being destroyed by the enemy she could handle – you were trained to handle that, you _expected _it… but not this. This was too cruel.

"All squadrons return to your ships," she muttured thickly, "no doubt they'll need us again soon."

Far from the returning Longswords, the battle was not boding well for the human fleet. All throughout the devastating attack by the fighters, the Covenant had kept up their relentless bombardment, two more great waves of plasma sweeping across the shipyards and Stations. As before, the MAC Stations had huddled behind the vast shipyards like children behind a parent, but even those behemoths of titanium and steel were showing the strain now – they were barely more than a metal kernel at the heart of a cloud of superheated vapour.

"One more salvo and the shipyards will be gone, Admiral," came Virgil's soft voice through the noise of the command deck of the _Final Redoubt. _"Once they're gone, the Covnenant will simply manouevre round and assualt our forces from a position where the vapour cloud will not protect them… in fact, they're already starting to spread out. They've learned from Callisto."

"And they'll sure as hell learn from this. I hope that one of us has a few more tricks up our sleeve, because we're going to need them."

"Yes Admiral. I am running simulations on several possibly strategies. Nothing particularly promising so far." Hood sighed.

"Well keep working on it. What's the status on the fleet guns?"

"Ready to fire momentarily Admiral."

"Fire this salvo, then pull the ships out of there, put them into position over Europa. We can't afford to waste them in a pointless last stand."

"Sir, this may sounds somewhat defeatist, but it seems this entire war has been a pointless last stand." Hood didn't respond to that. He turned silently to where one of Virgil's sensor nodes lay concealed in a wall and stared at it solemnly.

"My apologies Admiral. I spoke somewhat in haste perhaps."

"If you value your circuitry, you will not do so again," the Admiral replied in a flat, heavy voice. There was a brief, but noticeable, pause, before Virgil spoke again.

"Of course Admiral. Salvo away, pulling the fleet out now."

Stewart had barely docked her bird in the _Hammer's _launchbay before she felt the lurch of the ship's acceleration.

"We're moving," she called to Gilson, who was already half out the exit ramp, moving to assist the techs in re-arming and refueling the Longsword.

"Where to?" he called back. Stewart moved over to her seat and punched a few keys. The tac display glowed in front of her, and she scanned it quickly.

"Away from here – we're breaking orbit, headed towards Jupiter… running away," she finished in a dead voice.

"No... no not running away," said Gilson quietly, coming up behind her, "it makes sense – staying here would just be throwing away the whole fleet; look, you can see this battle's almost over," he gestured towards the markers representing the shipyards; they had all but vanished, "it makes sense to fall back now."

"And once Europa's gone? Io? We're running out of places to fall back to," she whispered. "Sooner or later we're going to have to stand and fight, and what then?" Gilson was silent for a moment, then he put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently.

"Then we'll make sure we take a few of them with us eh?" He withdrew his hand, turned, walked quietly from the cabin. Stewart stood there, watching the tiny motes of light dance on the tac display for a few, long moments, before turning away and joining Gilson outside.

As the human fleet pulled away from the scant defenses left around Ganymede, several hundred ships of the Covenant fleet made to follow them. A thunderous salvo from the MAC Stations cut across their path, however, slicing the noses of several of the pursuing ships, and the Covenant aborted their chase, turning once more to the deadly Stations.

As Virgil had predicted, with the shipyards nothing more than vapour, the Covenant moved to surround the MAC Stations, searching for a point at which they could attack without the shielding cloud of metal vapour protecting the Stations. The skyscraper-sized weapons' time was running out fast – now all they could hope for was to score as many kills as possible before the inevitable end.

Again and again the huge shells ripped through the great clouds of vapour, leaving swirling vortices in their wakes, hammering into the whale-headed vessels that spread like a pool of oil to surround them. Ship after ship was shattered into pieces, but the MAC Stations were virtually crippled by their need to fire in clusters to overcome the near-telepathic reactions of teir targets. The most their could hope for per salvo was twenty five, and that was assuming none were off-target.

Only a hundred Covenant ships had been destroyed before the glittering, purple behemoths began to return fire. First one, then two, then dozens of plasma torpedoes began to race across space towards the helpless Stations. They tried to manouevre, to shelter behind each other, but too late. Station after Station was consumed in the blood-red fires, melting, deforming, evaporating. At last only a handful were left, shielded once more by the encircling cloud of vapour that was all that remained of their fellow Stations.

Hoping to use this last, desperate shelter to their advantage, the Stations began to fire from within the cloud, but the Covenant were not to be caught by surprise the same way twice; clouds of Seraphs flowed into and through the swirling vapour, and attacked the massive Stations.

The vast weapons were as helpless as the great herbivores of the Jurassic period before a pack of raptors; lethal as they were to capital ships, were defenceless against fighters. Piece by piece the swarms of Seraphs tore the Stations to pieces, while the crews inside could do nothing but watch, helpless, as their deaths approached. Many tried to run for the escape pods, but the swift Covenant fliers pounced on these as soon as they launched, tearing them apart almost instantly.

Aboard the _Final Redoubt, _Admiral Hood turned away from the giant tac display that covered one wall of the huge command deck, unable to watch this cruel torment of his officers. After a few minutes Virgil's soft voice murmured from the concealed speakers.

"It's over Admiral. Ganymede has fallen."


End file.
